After Paris
by Gun Brooke
Summary: Miranda is trying to get used to a life without Andrea. Andy in turn, loves her new job at the Mirror, but hurts every time she sees her from a distance. When Andy's life is on the line, Miranda can't keep away any longer.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Fox and Lauren Weisberger owns the copyright to "The Devil Wears Prada" and its characters. I only play with them with no copyright infringement intended. Or any money made.

**Pairing:** Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)

**Rating:** PG 13 - NC-17 depending on chapter.

**Summary:** Miranda is trying to get used to a life without Andrea. Andy in turn, loves her new job at the Mirror, but hurts every time she sees her from a distance. When Andy's life is on the line, Miranda can't keep away any longer.

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

**Part 1/?**

Miranda walked out of the Elias-Clarke building, her mood below zero, barking orders on her phone. When the Mercedes pulled up to the curve, she simply disconnected in the middle of Emily's tedious explanation. As she approached the car, she happened to glance across the busy street. A familiar face. _Andrea_. The beautiful brunette, the assistant who'd walked away from Miranda and out of her life in the middle of Paris Fashion Week raised her arm and waved. Inhaling sharply as if someone punched her in her solar plexus, Miranda stood leaning against the car for a moment before breaking eye contact. She slipped into the back seat and slid over to the far side to still be able to observe the girl. Clearly, Andrea didn't dress like she did at Runway, but she still looked smart and professional. Why Miranda had written that letter of recommendation for Andrea instead of black listing her, she couldn't figure out. Nor was she certain why she removed her sunglasses and watched Andrea with hungry eyes now.

When Miranda realized that the car wasn't moving, she rolled her eyes and donned the sunglasses back on. Finding Roy's eyes in the rearview mirror, she merely said, "Go!"

Andy had no idea what seeing Miranda would stir in her heart, and in turn, where that would lead. She began going into work by passing Elias-Clark, hoping to catch a glimpse of Miranda, but rarely did. Sometimes, Andy would spot a shock of white hair, but it was rarely the right person beneath it. Miranda was like no other person, woman or man, that Andy had ever known. She surmised she never would in the future either. This was a depressing thought, and then there was the fact that Andy had acted so unprofessionally, if for all the right reasons, in Paris. Miranda no doubt thought it had everything to do with how Miranda treated Nigel Kipling, but that was not even half the truth. If Miranda had known the full truth, Andy would've been fired and out on her ass anyway, so in Andy's mind, she only beat Miranda to the punch.

"Sachs!" her new boss at the New York Mirror shouted from his office. Andy rose from her chair in her cubicle and hurried over to him.

"Yes, boss?"

"I swear you move faster than anyone else in this damn office. Must've been because Miranda Priestly trained you. Anyway. You've done a good job with the stuff you've work on so far, I thought you'd get to dip your feet a little deeper. Mike, our usual crime reporter had a dental emergency. Never fails. There's some sort of issue at a school not far from our office. The police is on their way and since we're so close, you better be the first reporter on site. Bring Pam. She's our best photographer."

"All right. Thanks, boss." Andy rushed over to her cubicle and gathered her messenger back and put on her leather jacket. This was better than the minor tasks they'd given her so far. She knew she had to pay her dues, but her boss probably also knew that a young reporter could die from boredom unless he threw them a bone.

"Hi Andy. You all set?" Pam Evans appeared, her camera bag slung over her shoulder. "We should be able to make it faster if we run over there."

"Then we better move."

The school yard was surrounded by police cars when they got there and more were pulling up.

"What the hell's going on?" Andy saw groups of children huddled in places, and, oh God, some were on the ground. The police was closing off the area while some of their colleagues were running toward the injured. _A school shooting, or what?_ Andy saw her chance and before Pam had a chance to react, she slipped into the school yard. Barely inside, a small hand belonging to a girl of perhaps nine or ten, yanked at her sleeve.

"Miss. Miss! He's bleeding. Are you the police?" Her voice, shrill and trembling, spoke of shock, as did her chalk white face.

"I'm a…where is he? Who's bleeding? Is someone helping him?" Andy knew she couldn't disregard a hurt child in order to get her story, and when the girl pulled her along with her to the playground area, she followed. When they reached the swing set, Andy's heart sank at the sight of legs sticking out. Denim clad, with sneakers, and very still legs.

"H-his name is Yamal. He's…the man with the knife stabbed him from behind when he was on the swing!"

_God. Oh, for the love of…_ Andy rushed over to the boy. He was very pale below his otherwise latte colored skin. He seemed to be breathing, but shallow and very fast.

"Yamal, hey, kiddo. You're going to be fine." Andy cursed not knowing what to do. "Where was he stabbed?"

"His shoulder, or in the back." The girl sobbed and remained close to Andy. "I was on the bars over there, climbing, and then—then…"

"Okay. Let's see if we can stop some of the bleeding. What's your name?" Andy stuck her hand in under Yamal's shirt and looked for a wound. Soon she found it, lower than she'd hoped, but not too close to his heart, she didn't think.

"Beth."

"Beth. You're doing really well. Can you run over to the paramedics, or the police, and tell them Yamal's hurt?"

"No! I can't. I can't leave him. Can't we carry him over there?"

"I shouldn't move him, honey. Let's see if we can get anyone's attention then." Andy stood, waved her arms, hoping Pam would see her. When she turned to the ever-growing crowd of press and bystanders, she saw Pam just outside the police tape. Nearly smacking herself on the forehead for not thinking, Andy pulled up her cell phone and dialed Pam.

"What the hell are you doing, Andy?" Pam sounded frantic.

"There's a kid hurt over here and his friend, the girl, Beth, came to get me. To help him. The paramedics can't see him from over where they are. He's bleeding really badly. "

"You don't understand, Andy. You have to get out of there."

"I can't. I can't leave him with Beth. He shouldn't be moved."

"Andy, listen! Oh, God, look out!" Pam screamed on the phone, making Andy flinch. She realized Beth was screaming as well and turned around. Behind her stood a man, holding a knife. A very long, blood soaked knife.

Miranda rolled her fountain pen between her fingers, looking out the window. She had a few decisions to make, which needed her signature, but no matter how she turned it over in her head, she couldn't avoid hurting someone. Despite what anyone else at Runway thought, she didn't take pleasure in firing anyone. That's why she most often let Emily do it when yet another assistant proved to be useless.

"Miranda. You have to see this." Nigel rushed into her office, carrying his Ipad. "It's on CNN. On all the news networks."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Miranda put on her reading glasses and took his Ipad from his trembling fingers.

"A crazy man with a knife on a school yard here on Manhattan."

"Dalton?" Dread filled Miranda.

"No. Closer to our offices. But Andy's there."

"Who—An-Andrea?" Another cold fist clutched at her heart. "What would she be doing there?"

"Her job. She was already inside the police tape when he turned up again. They say he stabbed four children and one teacher. And now he has Andy and a little girl."

"I need to go over there."

Nigel looked shocked. "What? Why?"

"The same reason you had for barging in showing me this. Call Roy."

"No use. You won't get very close to the site in a car. I suggest we walk."

"Very well. Emily. Coat. Bag. Cancel all my meetings this afternoon. I won't be in until tomorrow."

"Yes, Miranda." Emily had clearly heard everything. "Andrea? Nigel, call me or Serena when you know something? Should we call her parents? Do they know?"

"I will take care of that. Text me their phone number." Miranda pulled her coat from Emily's hands and put it on while walking to the elevator, Nigel in tow.

To be continued in part 2


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

Part 2

"Please. Let us get this child over to the paramedics," Andy pleaded with the man holding the knife. He was tall, pale, with thin, black hair reaching to his shoulders. Dressed in what looked like a tattered uniform of sorts, he loomed over them. The whites of his eyes were red, and he kept chewing on something, and for a startling moment, Andy got the impression he was biting the inside of his mouth.

"I want to go," Beth whimpered. "Please. _Please_."

"Shut the kid up." The man's voice was low and rough, like gravel being crushed together. "Either that, or I'll make good use of this." He waved the knife at them."

Yamal coughed and stirred. Blood was still oozing slowly from his wound. "What…?" the boy murmured and then seemed to slip back into unconsciousness.

"Can't you see? He can die; he _will_ die if we don't get him over there." Andy was ready to launch at the lunatic with the knife, but harnessed her rage. "Please. This is Yamal. He is ten years old, right, Beth? And this is Beth. They're friends."

"I don't give a fuck."

"I think you do. Why did you do this to Yamal? To the kids over there? And a teacher?"

"None of your fucking business."

Beth clung to Andy's right side, as she leaned over Yamal, protecting him with her body while she pressed down on his wound.

"I suppose not," Andy conceded, "but you're threatening us, and for no apparent reason. The police have the place surrounded. Let's end this before it's too late."

"It's already too late. Too late for me, and I'll make sure they know what I think of them and their crimes." The man made no sense. Crimes? Against him?

"How about I go with you? The paramedics can come to get Yamal and Beth if you and I move away." Andy looked down at Beth who stayed as glued to her side. "You can hold on to Yamal until they get here, can't you?"

"No. No. Please." The child trembled. "You can't go with him."

"If I don't, Yamal won't make it."

"All right. I need to get away from her wailing, anyway." The man's free hand shot down and grabbed Andy's ponytail. Pulling her with him, obviously keeping her between him and the police, he yanked painfully at her hair.

"Ow. Wait, wait. I have to show Beth…"

"I've got it. I've got it!" Beth cried, large tears flooding her cheeks as she pressed against Yamal. "Come back. Don't go. I don't even know your name!"

"Andy Sachs," Andy called out as the man forced her in behind the swing set and some bushes. Turning to the man, she shuddered at the hatred in his eyes. Hatred and something else, something desolate. "Let me call the paramedics over for Yamal." She held up her cell phone.

The man hesitated, and then nodded. "Sure, just be sure to tell them if I see them coming over here…that'll be the last thing you do."

"All right."

"Sit there." He pushed her down on the ground in front of him. Running the knife along Andy's neck, as if for emphasis, he laughed, a terrible hissing, unhappy sound. "Make the call."

Andy dialed the latest number she'd used, to Pam. The photographer picked up instantly.

"God, Andy, where are you?"

"I'm here. I'm okay. Send paramedics over to the swing set. A boy is seriously wounded, and a girl is pressing against his wound. He's dying, Pam."

"Got'cha. Stay on the phone, Andy. Please." Pam's voice came in bursts as if she was running. Andy could hear her relay the information and other voice calling out orders in the background. Then Pam was back on the phone. "Are you sure you're okay? Is he there?"

"He is."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Hand over the phone, ma'am," a male voice interrupted. "This is Lieutenant Troy Bradford. Who is this?"

"I'm Andy Sachs. Reporter for the New York Mirror."

"And you're in the schoolyard?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Are you getting help for Yamal? He's hemorrhaging badly. There's a little girl with him…" Andy sobbed. The knife at her neck pressed harder. "I think I need to hang up."

"No," the man behind her hissed. "Keep the police on the line. They should hear what I do to you, in case they don't abide by the rules."

"I heard that," Lt. Bradley said. "Have you seen any other weapons on him than the knife?"

"No."

"Can you judge if he's intoxicated in any way?"

"Doesn't seem to be."

"How is your situation right now?"

"Knife against my neck. Pretty scary." Andy winced as her words made the man press up harder against her. For some reason, that made her feel worse than the presence of the knife against her neck.

"I hear you, Ms. Sachs."

"Andy."

"Very well. Andy."

"Yamal and Beth need—"

"Paramedics are closing in together with part of the task force." Lt. Bradley spoke quietly. "How far are you from their position?"

"Twenty-five yards, maybe."

"I need to talk to this man now, Andy."

Andy relayed this to the man behind her.

"No. I don't talk to cops. I don't talk to councilors. All I want is to leave now and you're my ticket out of here. You can tell them that."

"I heard," Lt. Bradley confirmed solemnly. "I'm going to hand the phone back to your friend. Stay on the line. How's your battery?"

"Freshly charged." Andy clung to her cell phone. Would they allow this maniac to leave with her in tow? "T-take good care of Yamal and Beth. They're just kids."

"Will do. Here's your friend."

"Oh, God, Andy," Pam said. "You're going to be fine. They'll get you out of there. Can he hear me?"

"Don't think so." Andy took a deep, long breath. "News desk send anyone else in?"

"Boss is coming himself."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Quite the commotion here." Pam quieted and seemed to move, judging from the noise. "Hey, they got the kids. The swat team is in position, from what it looks like. Bradley is keeping me here, so I can't talk to anyone else. Damn it, Sachs, you got yourself into a bind, didn't you?" Pam's teeth actually clattered enough for Andy to hear it.

"Get someone to bring you a blanket," Andy said. "Don't you dare let go of the phone."

"I won't."

_God, I wish I was home in bed. _ Andy tried to get a little more comfortable, but as soon as she moved, the knife pushed harder against her skin. She expected to feel blood trickling along her neck at any second. "J-just remember. I'm your best bargaining chip here."

"Shut up. You're nothing. You're handy right now, but I'll slice you right up if you don't do as I say. He pressed his face into her hair. Andy thought she was going to be sick when bile rose in her throat. "For now, it serves my purpose for you to chat with your buddy over there."

Miranda disconnected the short conversation she'd had with New York's district attorney. He'd eventually seen things her way.

"Nigel," Miranda lengthened her stride. "When we get there, you will find Lt. Troy Bradley, who's in charge at the scene. The DA will have sent him a message by now."

"Certainly, Miranda." Nigel didn't sound surprised.

"Now to the call I never wanted to make in the first place, heaven help me." Miranda browsed the address book that Emily updated on a daily basis. _Virginia and Richard Sachs, Cincinnati. That was it._

"Sachs residence," a pleasant female voice said.

"Mrs. Sachs? This is Miranda Priestly."

"Miran—? Excuse me? Did you say Miranda Priestly?" The woman sounded perplexed. "I'm Ginny Sachs. Why are you calling me?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sachs. I don't know if you've caught any of the current drama that's ongoing at one of the schools here in New York."

"No? I haven't had the TV on yet today. What…a school you say? Oh, God, a shooting? Why are you calling me about that?" Panic entered Ginny Sach's voice. "Mrs. Priestly?"

"Call me Miranda. Please. As it turns out, your daughter Andrea is at the scene and directly involved." Miranda closed her eyes. She was a mother herself, and could imagine the dread the other woman was feeling. Being far away and not able to do anything immediately of course made it worse.

"Oh, God. Oh, dear Lord." Ginny moaned. "Is she hurt? What happened?"

"She was sent to report the case for the Mirror," Miranda said and crossed the street in long strides. Nigel was right next to her, probably making sure no car hit them as she was not about to slow down. "For some reason, she ended up inside the perimeter set up by the police, and the perpetrator…seems to be in control of the situation in there."

"I…I…Are you there? Can you tell me anything else? Why are you the one calling me?"

"Because I don't think the police have made a positive ID of the people inside the schoolyard yet. I found out through other channels and I'm only one block away now. I promise you I will keep you apprised of Andrea's situation, Mrs. Sachs."

"You sound…I mean, Andy worked for you some time ago, and you sound…involved?" Ginny was clearly confused and there were tears lacing her vocal cords. "M-Miranda? Is Andy of some importance to you?"

Miranda knew she had to reassure Andrea's mother, or the woman might just hyperventilate enough into a fainting spell. "Yes. Andrea is important to me. I will not leave the scene until she's safe and out of danger. You have my word."

"Oh, God, thank you. I know Andy grew to care for you before she left. I'm so glad she told you and that you're there for her now. She was miserable for so long."

This information nearly made Miranda stumble on her four inch heels. Filing the information away from later, her heart contracting painfully as she did so, she merely promised to call back within minutes. In the meantime, Ginny was going to call her husband, Richard, and tell him the news and to come home.

"Here we are. There's the school." Nigel pointed at the long line of police cars and the ambulances. Several of the paramedics were working on small forms still lying on the ground in the schoolyard.

"Nigel. Who the hell can do something like this?"

"I can't even begin to imagine," Nigel said, going pale. "How many did he stab? They said it was a man with a long knife."

"Locate Lt. Bradley."

"Okay. I'll be right back, Miranda." Nigel hurried along the large crowd consisting of worried parents, onlookers, and press. Miranda stood among them, her eyes scanning the area. Inside, she prayed she'd spot the young woman who once worked for her. She would give anything to see her brilliant smile and emotion-filled brown eyes again. Seeing the casualties, _children, for heaven's sake_, she found herself begin to tremble.

**Continued in part 3/?**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

**********  
>After Paris<p>

By Gun Brooke

Part 3

Troy Bradley regarded the regal woman in front of him. He'd just received a call from DA McCoy. In short, his message was to let Miranda Priestly into the command central they'd put up. She was to learn of any new development and be consulted regarding the status of one Andrea Sachs. Now Bradley realized that his first reaction had been rash. Thinking that the Priestly woman was a socialite drama queen couldn't be more wrong. Yes, the woman was regal, and had he not been on the clock with lives in the balance, he would have gone into more detail about what made her so remarkable even at a first glance.

"So you know Andrea Sachs, who we know are with the perpetrator right now?"

"I know her very well. She was my assistant until only six months ago. She's resourceful, but also inclined to take risks and from what I understand, she is in this situation because she did just that."

"She just saved a young boy's life and kept a girl alive and away from the perp by taking risks," Bradley said with a sigh. "The swat team moved in closer because of that maneuver, but not close enough to take him out."

"How did she manage to get word out and identify herself?" Miranda Priestly asked.

"She's on the phone constantly with her photographer over there." Bradley pointed at a young woman in jeans and a down jacket. "The perp requested it. So as long as her battery isn't depleted, we talk to her."

"I—I want to talk to her." The Priestly woman had paled. "Now."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea. We can't have her get emotional. She's pretty calm right now."

"I do not enjoy repeating myself. If you are reluctant, I can have DA McCoy call you again. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

Bradley winced. This woman played rough. "Fine. You might be able to pick up on what she says that can't be spelled out in front of the scumbag." He waved and got the photographer's attention. When she saw Miranda Priestly, her eyes widened. Clearly this woman, especially being a photographer, knew of the famous editor-in-chief. He motioned to Priestly when Pam came up to them. "Pam? Hand your phone over to Ms. Priestly."

Pam did so without questioning him. He could tell that the latest ten minutes had taken a toll on her already. Still, she managed to pull herself together, picking up her camera from the bag and carrying out her job.

Bradley watched Miranda placed the phone against her ear. She pressed her lips tightly together for a few seconds before she spoke; "Hello, Andrea. What on earth have you gotten yourself into?"

#####

Andy nearly dropped he cellphone. "Miranda?" _Miranda!_ Okay, so now she was hallucinating from pure shock. Great.

"Yes. I am here with Lt. Bradley and your photographer, Pam, was it?" Miranda sounded like she was calling Andy to ask for coffee. Oh, how she would've loved to do one of her multitude of Starbucks runs. Andy had managed to move a few inches away from the knife, but the man still sat close behind her, his side pressed against her back. Maybe his arm had become full of too much lactic acid. She didn't care, as long as he kept that gross and dangerous knife away from her. The mere idea that Yamal's and the other children's blood were on it, made her sick.

"How can it be? That you're here?"

"I'm here because you're here. I didn't write a glowing letter of recommendation for you to go toe to toe with a maniac at the first opportunity."

"Glowing? Yes, I suppose knowing you, it was." Andy pressed the cell phone closer to her ear. Miranda's voice, so unexpected, but infinitely precious, was like a buoy in stormy waters. "As for this…I never saw this happen." Clearing her throat, Andy curled up where she sat on the ground. "Miranda?"

"Yes?"

"I-I'm so cold." Andy closed her eyes and tried to imagine the most scorching, eviscerating look Miranda could produce when displeased. No matter what, that look had always burned Andy to a crisp when she worked for her. Perhaps it would warm her now?

"Andrea." Miranda sounded choked up all of a sudden. "You listen to me. Do _whatever_ you need to do to get away from this man. You hear me? Knowing you, you will be susceptible to whatever _bullshit_ he tries, to make you pity him, or understand him. I forbid you to do that. You will see him for the monster he is and keep yourself safe. Is that clear?" Her voice sank to a low whisper. "Is that clear?"

Andy half laughed, half sobbed. "Yes, Miranda."

#####

Miranda leaned against the closest patrol car, holding the cell phone tightly. "I talked to your mother. I wanted to let he know what was going on before she caught on the news."

"News? Oh, God. It's gone national, the coverage, hasn't it?" Andrea moaned. "Mom and dad must be frantic."

"Your mother was upset, and understandably so. She was also calm in a manner I'm not sure I could have if my girls were in your position." Miranda trembled—it was bad enough that it was Andrea, but at least she was an adult. Miranda's heart twitched painfully in her chest. "I need to know your physical status, Andrea. Are you injured?"

"No. A few bumps and bruises, and he did yank me along by my hair, so my scalp is a tad sore. He might have cut me some with the knife, but if he has, it's superficial." Andrea murmured the words and her voice sounded like she was so very close. If only that had been the case.

"Miranda. You're shaking." Nigel came up behind Miranda, startling her, which rendered him a typical glare from squinting eyes. "Here. It's a blanket from the paramedics. Temperature is dropping." He unceremoniously placed a blanket around Miranda's shoulders. "You need gloves."

"I have some, in my pockets." Miranda didn't waste time. She handed the phone to Nigel to put them on. "Talk to Andrea."

Nigel's eyes grew wide. "Six? You there?" he spoke into the phone. "Hello. Yes. She's fine. We more or less ran over here as soon as we heard. Yes. Yes." His smile became bitter-sweet. "Very worried."

Miranda looked up at him, sending him a warning with her eyes only, something Nigel blatantly disregarded.

"Yes," he continued. "I'd say so. How are you holding up? Good. Keep your distance as much as possible. She did?" He paused. "She's right, you know that. Yes." Nigel's face grew serious and then his eyes filled with tears. "D-don't cry, Six. We'll get you away from him." He looked helplessly at Miranda and handed the phone back. "I—I can't…"

Miranda pressed the phone to her ear while steadying herself against the car. "Andrea."

"Miranda?" Andrea's voice trembled so much, she could hardly speak. "P-please."

"Talk to me."

"Please, don't hang up."

"I won't. I'm right here." Miranda's jaws were so tense; she thought she could hear them crackle. "Nigel is right. You will be fine."

"He's really agitated back here. C-can you hear him?"

Miranda listened closely. Somewhere in the background she heard a male voice ranting, but she couldn't detect any words. "Nigel, get Bradley over here. He needs to hear this."

Nigel strode over to the lieutenant and motioned toward Miranda.

"Andrea. I'm going to let Lt. Bradley listen to how your captor sounds. I'll be right back."

"Oh. All right."

Lt. Bradley listened for a few moments, frowned and waved a short and stocky woman over. "Liz, listen to this. Tell me what you think?"

The woman listened while Miranda impatiently tapped her foot. This was taking too long. If Andrea thought they'd abandoned her…

"I could make out a few words. We might understand better what makes him tick if the young woman could get him to talk to her."

"No. You will get Andrea away from him. She's not going to let him get into her head or vice versa." Miranda snatched the phone back.

"It's her best chance of escaping unharmed," the woman, Liz, maintained. "She needs for him to see her as a real person, not a nameless somebody, but her as an individual."

Miranda knew on an intellectual level that Liz was right. "Very well," she said, clenching her teeth around the words. "I will be here the whole time. I promised her."

"Lieutenant," Liz said, clearly objecting, "I'm not sure involving a civilian…"

"Liz. Trust me. You're wasting your breath. Ms. Priestly has Jack McCoy's approval and that trumps everything."

"All right. Fine."

Miranda knew Andrea had waited long enough. She turned her back at New York's finest. "Andrea. I'm here."

"Th-thank God." Andrea was shivering. "Fuck, I'm cold. Oh, sorry."

"You can use any expletive you want in this situation. I'd say you're entitled."

"Yeah? You're not just saying that so you can chew me out later?" Andrea chuckled mirthlessly.

"No, not at all. I'm sure I can find all sorts of reasons to 'chew you out', but not for swearing while in a dire situation."

"Dire, eh? Miranda, tell me, how are the children and the teacher that were hurt? Can you find out?"

"I will. In the meantime, Andrea, and this is important, you will have to take every opportunity to let this man understand you're a real person, you're important to someone, and you're not just a random person in a crowd. It's vital, Andrea."

"You mean, talk to him?" Andrea's voice rose, sounding panicky. "He's acting so crazy right now."

"If you talk to him, he might calm down." _Or he might snap and slit her throat_. Miranda quieted the evil voice in her head. "Just try, Andrea."

"You'll stay on the phone, right?" Andrea whispered frantically. "You'll have to tell me if I do it wrong. You're the born negotiator, Miranda. You'll know."

"I promised, didn't I? Ask him if he's cold too. We should be able to get blankets to your position."

"That'd be great. I can hardly feel my fingers."

Liz and Bradley approached Miranda who nodded curtly at them before they even asked her anything. "Have blankets ready to be delivered to them." Miranda waved her hand dismissively. "Also, Andrea wants an update on the casualties." Bracing herself for the agonizing truth, Miranda took a step closer to Nigel who carefully place his arm around her waist underneath the blanket, out of sight of the others.

Bradley first ordered someone to get two blankets and wrap them around something heavy, making it possible to throw them from a safe distance. He stood close to Miranda and she held up the phone to him as he read from his Blackberry. "Andy? Lt. Bradley here. You wanted to know about the casualties." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Five children and one teacher were stabbed, most of them from behind, like Yamal. The first one, a girl of nine, was stabbed twice. She's in the children's ICU at the Presbyterian Hospital. Critical, but stable. The other four were all boys, one with a superficial stab to his arm, the other three stabbed in the upper torso from the back, two in serious condition and one, the boy you found, Yamal, in critical condition. All of them also at the Presbyterian." Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose. "The teacher, a young woman, received several deep stab wounds to her neck and upper chest. I don't have an update on her condition yet, but it was touch and go at the scene." He paused. "You did everything and more, Andy. Yamal wouldn't have stood a chance without you. Nobody even knew he was there. Who? Beth?" Bradley checked his phone. "Reunited with her parents at the Presbyterian. Physically unharmed. Yes. Right here, issuing orders." Bradley smiled. "Good. Try it, Andy. Make him see _you_." He turned to Miranda. "She's more concerned with the kids. Some young woman you have there, Ms. Priestly."

"Yes." _You have no idea._ Miranda gripped the phone. "Andrea." She had no response, but heard Andrea's voice in the background.

"You look cold. You know, I'm cold too. I can get blankets for us while you figure out what to do."

"I fucking know what to do!" The man's rough voice sent shock waves through Miranda's system.

"Okay, okay. But a blanket would be good, right?" Andrea persisted. "You're shivering…what should I call you? I'm Andy, by the way."

"What do I care?" After a brief silence, the man spoke again. "I'm Dieter."

"Yeah? So, should I ask for the blanket's Dieter? And maybe some water?"

"Yeah, they owe me that—and more. Fucking authorities."

"Miranda? Blankets and water." Andrea sounded exhausted. She continued in a whisper. "His name, did you get it? I think it's his real name. Just a hunch."

"I heard." Miranda turned from the phone and relayed her information to Bradley.

"Good. I'll run the name and we have a good description of him from several of the children. We'll have him identified soon. That will help her situation." He frowned. "Ms. Priestly—"

"Miranda."

"Miranda." Bradley looked uncomfortable addressing her by her first name, but Miranda didn't care. "You need to sit down. We have a vehicle where we monitor everything and the two of you will be better off in there." He nodded at Nigel.

"I need to keep this phone," Miranda said. "It's our only link…"

"Ms. Priestly, keep it." Pam showed up at Miranda's left. "I'm here now with my boss, we're covering everything for the Mirror, while we wait for Andy's release. We're not leaving without her either. Just keep the phone."

"Very well." Miranda followed the men into a blessedly warm van. She saw one man and one woman manning the equipment, which showed the schoolyard from several angles. She looked at them closely from the seat she was offered, but couldn't see Andrea. "Where are they?"

"Behind the boulder over there, under the trees. He managed to pick the only place our snipers can't reach. They're ready when the opportunity presents itself," a burly man dressed in swat uniform and bulletproof vest said.

"Snipers. Oh, God." Nigel pressed a hand to his forehead. "Tell me this isn't happening."

"We have the school yard surrounded. He's not going anywhere." Bradley nodded at the other man. "This is Sergeant Ortega."

Miranda sized the man up. He looked like he knew what he was doing. Still shivering inside from the cold weather, she turned to Nigel. "Have Emily send coffee for everybody." Miranda returned her focus on the phone. "Andrea?"

"Wait." She heard some rustling. "We're m-moving to reach the blankets."

"Target in view," the woman at the screens said.

Miranda stared at the screen. The image was black and white, slightly grainy, but she could easily make out the image of Andrea. The man was crouching behind the young woman, his hand holding a terrifying knife; so long it was practically a sword, against her neck as they inched toward the two rolls in front of them.

"Anyone got a clear shot?" Ortega barked into his headset. "Damn."

Andrea bent down and pulled the rolls towards her. Now Miranda could see the man more clearly. One of the cameras zoomed in on his face and she glanced briefly at it before she returned her focus on Andrea.

"Take it, take it!" Ortega raised his voice, leaning toward the screen. "Shots fired."

Miranda stood, unable to breathe as she stared at the screen. The man holding onto Andrea staggered and then went down. Andrea, still bent forward, fell backward as he pulled her with him.

"Move in, move in," Ortega shouted into his headset and rushed out of the van. He left the door open and Miranda could hear a multitude of voices calling out as the cold wind quickly chilled the vehicle. Unable to take her eyes from the screen, Miranda didn't even blink. _Move, Andrea. Get away from him._ She wondered if the camera had frozen the image, because no matter the noise outside, the two on the screen lay so eerily still.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

Part 4

##########

Nigel had never in a million years thought he would have to put his hand on his formidable boss and physically restrain her. When Miranda took her eyes off the screen, where Six lay so still his stomach lurched. Ortega was out the door, and Bradley, probably sensing that Miranda was about to follow them, shot Nigel a dark look. "Keep her here." It was clear that he meant it.

"Like hell." Miranda took three steps toward the door before Nigel caught up with her. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, but realized that such an approach wasn't going to cut it. Instead he wrapped her arms around her and held her tight against his chest. He was not a big man, but he worked out regularly and he needed that extra strength now.

"Miranda," he pleaded, trying to ignore how she dug her nails into his hands that were locked around her slender waist. "We'll go out there as soon as it's safe. Please, Miranda."

"Let go of me," Miranda said in a snarling whisper. "Get your hands off me this instant."

"I can't do that. You don't know what's going on out there."

"I know Andrea is down. I can see it!" Miranda gestured at the screen. "Can't you see? She—she needs me."

"She does. And you owe it to her to be calm and collected when we get outside. When Lt. Bradley says it's all right and not before. Let them do their job."

"What….what if the sniper shot her too, by mistake?" Miranda's voice trembled and she began to sag against Nigel. "What if it's too late…what if _I'm_ too late?"

"No. Look. They're moving in now. Look at the screen."

Miranda shifted in his arms, not to free herself; in fact she was clinging to Nigel now, watching the screens.

Men and women in swat team gear lifted Andy away from Dieter's still body. She wasn't moving, and Nigel hoped this was from sheer exhaustion or that perhaps she fainted. He feared for both the women, Andy for her status, and Miranda for her emotional state. He had known her for almost twenty years, but he had never seen her this lost and distraught.

The crew put Andy on a stretcher and began carrying her toward the EMTs. Nigel took a chance that it would be all right for them to exit the van. Frankly he didn't care, because Miranda was trembling like an explosive device ready to go off at any second. "Let's go to her." He gently helped Miranda down the narrow steps. It was getting dark and was, if possibly, even darker. "You okay?" he asked gently.

"I will be once I make sure Andrea is."

##########

Miranda couldn't quite feel the ground under her feet. It was as if she was walking on foam, not entirely steady. She had to lean on Nigel's arm, but all she cared about was to see Andrea with her own eyes. The paramedics were working with Andrea where she lay on her back on a gurney. Miranda shot them a look that made two of them move to the side.

"How is she?" Nigel asked

Miranda merely looked down at the pale young woman. "What has he done to you?" she whispered. There were several tears at Andrea's hairline, and hard fingers had marked her face, neck, and hands. She was wrapped in several blankets and wires emerged from under her clothes.

"Her vital stats are not too shabby," a woman said. "BP 140/80, respiration elevated at 35, pulse 100. Temp 96,6. What's her name?"

"Andy," Nigel said, glancing at Miranda. She didn't object, merely stood next to the gurney, making sure everybody knew she would not be pushed away. Part of her wanted to touch Andrea, but she was like frozen in place, her eyes locked on the pale face before her.

"Andy?" the paramedic said, rubbing against Andrea's sternum. "Can you look at me, Andy? You're safe now and we're about to take you to hospital so the docs can have a look at you. Andy?"

There was no response, not even to the pain stimulation. The paramedic tried a few times more, a frown deepening on her forehead. "She's not responsive. Did anyone see her hit her head?"

"I don't think she did," Bradley said from behind Miranda. "She went down backward and landed on top of the suspect."

"Andrea?" Miranda spoke in her usual voice. "Wake up and look at us. You're scaring everybody."

At first there was no reaction, but then Miranda saw a small flutter of long dark lashes.

"Look at me, Andrea." Miranda leaned over the gurney. "That's it."

"Miranda?" Andrea's voice was a mere whisper. "Where is…?"

"In custody." Miranda didn't know if Dieter was alive and she couldn't care less right now. She knew that would change, when her harness fury at what this man had put Andrea through, not to mention for attacking innocent children, would surface. "You're safe now."

Andrea nodded slowly and then closed her eyes again. "Good."

"Why is she so lethargic?" Miranda zoomed in her gaze at the paramedic who merely shrugged.

"I can't say. She's cold, she's in shock from the experience, and she might have trauma that we know nothing about. We need to load her now. We'll take her to the Presbyterian."

"I'm going with her."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but—"

"No. That wasn't a question. I'm going with her."

The paramedic's eyes narrowed and perhaps that made it easier for her to ascertain Miranda's resolve because she merely shrugged. "All right. You have to ride up front, though."

"Very well." Miranda turned to Nigel. "Take care of everything at the office. Notify my ex-husband that he'll have to take the girls this weekend as well. I'll see them on Sunday."

"Just go, Miranda. I'll handle things." Nigel's kind expression nearly became Miranda's undoing. She leaned over Andrea, removed her right glove and placed her hand on her forehead.

Miranda forced her shoulders to square and entered the passenger seat in the ambulance, refusing to accept any assistance. She heard them load Andrea and would've given anything to sit in the back with the young woman.

##########

Andy kept hiding. Something in her had decided that playing possum was the best course of action. Hands undressed her, examined her, moved her, and all the time Andy kept her eyes close and listened. Listened for that familiar voice that used to be so scathing, critical, and generally speaking face-melting.

"Here she is, Ms. Priestly."

"Finally. I don't see why examining Andrea would take so long."

Oh there it was. As low and menacing as ever.

"Is she unconscious?"

"No. We think it's the shock."

Gentle hands, so unlike the anti-septic smelling gloved hands that touched Andy before, cupped her cheeks. "Andrea? Time to stop hiding. Look at me."

Afraid, yet so amazed that Miranda was there, caring enough to visit the hospital. And touching her! So baffled at this, Andy had to open her eyes and make sure this wasn't part of the surreal nightmare she'd just lived through. "Miranda?"

"Ah. Better." And there she was. Slowly opening her eyes, Andy looked up at that beautiful face surrounded by shiny, white hair. Still, there was something different about Miranda. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her makeup slightly smudged and she wore no lipstick, which made her mouth look vulnerable.

"What's wrong?" Andy said, frowning.

Miranda's eyes widened. "'What's wrong?'" She pursed her lips. "You risking your life? That'd be a start of 'what's wrong'."

"Oh. Yeah. That." Andy shuddered.

Immediately the gentle hands, which Andy only realized belonged to Miranda, slid down her neck to grip her shoulders. "You're safe now, Andrea. He can't hurt you or anyone else, anymore." She rubbed Andy's shoulders in small, soothing circles. "Do you understand?"

"Uhm. Yeah." Andy couldn't believe the fact that Miranda, _Miranda_, was touching her deliberately. She recognized she was in shock, feeling faint, trembling, and jittery in general, and still this touch, wonders of all wonders, grounded her. "C-can you tell me what you're doing here? What you were doing at the s-school?"

"As I said, we heard the news. Nigel and I hurried over."

"No, I got that part. I mean, why?"

Miranda paused and for a moment, Andy feared she might remove her hands. _You don't ask Miranda anything—ever_.

"I—I had to." Miranda's eyes narrowed. "And now they tell me you just need the superficial wound cleaned and bandage and I can take you home."

"Oh, but I have to type up my story. I can get a cab home later." Andy blinked. "And I must check on the kids, and that teacher, and find out about why Dieter gave up…and…and…" Tears started running down her cheeks as she tried to remember what had happened. Images of the scruffy looking man, the small forms lying on the ground, Beth crying and clinging to her all blended to a whirling carousel of horrifying film clips.

"Shhh. You can write from the townhouse. You're not going back to work, and you're not staying alone anywhere." Miranda pressed her lips to a fine line. "As for the children, they are all expected to recover. The teacher is still touch and go. As for the maniac responsible for all this, he's in the ICU with a potentially fatal gunshot wound to the chest."

"He was shot?" Andy gasped. She couldn't remember that. Last thing she remembered was trying to stay warm while talking to Miranda on the phone. Something else struck her. "Wait. You said home to the townhouse? Your home?" She knew she probably looked ridiculous as her mouth fell open.

"Yes. You can't be home alone after something like this."

"But—"

"Andrea." Miranda's voice softened. "If I was attacked and I had nobody to stay with me, wouldn't you offer me your couch, or even your bed?"

Andy's mind came to a complete halt. "Yes. Absolutely, yes."

"So it's settled."

Someone knocked on the door and a nurse came in. "Hello, there. I'm Susie. I'll be dressing your wounds, Ms. Sachs."

"Call me Andy, please." Andrea returned her gaze to Miranda, whose dragon persona was back in place, red eyes or not.

Regrettably, Miranda removed her hands. "I'll be back when they're done with you. Roy will be here to take us home." She suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips quickly against Andy's forehead before leaving the room.

#########

Outside in the corridor, Miranda realized she was shaking all over. She saw Nigel approaching, and the sight of the man who was her friend made her knees buckle. Holding on to the railing attached to the wall, Miranda sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

"Miranda!" Nigel ran up and knelt next to her. "You okay? Andy, is she…" He paled.

"She's fine. I mean, she's going to be—fine." Miranda gasped for air. "I—we—saw her go down and she wouldn't wake up…she can't remember everything. Oh God, Nigel."

Nigel put his arms around Miranda and helped her up. "Come on. Let's go sit down while we wait." They moved to a waiting area down the corridor.

"What about the office? Is Emily managing? Did you bring what I asked for?"

"I did." Nigel held up a garment bag. "As for Emily, she's doing a very good impression of you, if you ask me. She's having everyone jumping through hoops and we're right where we want to be. All you have to do is to wait for the book tonight and do your usual magic on that. I can also report that Emily had coffee sent for all the police and EMTs at the scene, which was greatly appreciated. Have the police talked to Andy yet?"

"No. I told the staff to stall them. They can talk to her at the townhouse."

Nigel blinked. "Your house?"

"Is there an echo in here? You sound like Andrea. Yes, my house. She's not going to be home alone after such an ordeal. Oh, that reminds me. I called her parents after the first assessment of her injuries. They're flying in on Sunday evening. Have Emily book a suite for them at that place near my house."

"Will do." Nigel regarded her closely.

"You're staring."

"You're pale and trembling. Have you eaten?"

"No. I'll get something when we get home."

"I saw a vending machine—"

"Unless that machine is stocked by Smith & Vollensky, don't even dare." Miranda shuddered at the thought.

"God, what a day," Nigel said and sighed. "I think it's safe to say, today changed a lot of things."

"Yes." Miranda wasn't sure if he referred to the victims or to her and Andrea, but nevertheless, he was right. "Thank you, Nigel."

He smiled, a soft and friendly expression in his eyes. "Miranda, I think you know by now that I mean it when I say, 'anytime'."

"I do." Miranda saw the nurse from earlier pass outside the waiting area. "Come. Andrea will be glad to see you. If you assist us to the car, you can go off the clock until Monday morning."

"Absolutely."

As they entered the room, they found Andrea sitting in her hospital gown, her feet dangling. She had bandages on her knees, her elbows, a long one along her neck, and on both hands.

"Nigel." Andrea reached out both hands. "Oh, Nigel."

He dropped the bag on the floor and embraced the trembling woman. "Hey, Six. What have they done to you? You look like a half wrapped mummy."

Andrea snorted through the tears. "Yeah. You think you can do something about this? I'm sure I look horrible."

"You? Never." Nigel held up the bag. "And here are some clothes, courtesy of the Closet."

"Thank you." Andrea looked at Miranda. "And thank you."

"You are going to need help getting dressed." Miranda swallowed, suddenly flustered. "I'll call a nurse in here—"

"No, please." Andrea reached out her hand. "Can't you help me? I don't want another nurse. I seem to crave your voice. It was horrible when you left the room before."

"Oh. Well. Nigel, perhaps you'll wait outside?"

"Sure, ladies." He kissed Andrea's cheek. "See you in a minute or two."

Miranda took the garment bag and unzipped it. The choices were excellent for the purpose. Turning back to Andrea, Miranda regarded her bandaged hands. Suddenly it wasn't hard or awkward at all. Andrea was hurt. Miranda could help. Reaching for the fastening of the hospital gown, Miranda was careful not to nudge any of the bandaged areas. Andrea had many more bruised areas, but at least the skin hadn't broken. Miranda helped her on with a camisole, a cashmere cardigan and soft slacks that wouldn't hurt her knees. Someone—Emily?—had put a hairbrush and some other beauty products. Miranda used her hand to hold on to the long tresses when she brushed through them, careful not to hurt the injured scalp.

"There. Presentable." _Beautiful._ Miranda pulled out a down jacket from the bag and helped Andrea push her arms through. Ready to leave, Miranda took a deep breath, regarding Andrea seriously. "There will be press outside. You're the one they want, but my presence will be noted as well. I can have Roy try one of the side entrances."

"Oh, yes, please, Miranda. I don't want the press. Mom and dad…" She began to tremble. "My parents."

"Are informed and when we get to the house, you can crawl into bed and talk to them for as long as you want. They're coming to New York on Sunday. If you want them here sooner, I'll make it happen."

"Yeah?" Andrea sobbed and suddenly her arms were around Miranda's neck. "Thank you. Thank you." She clung for a few seconds more. "Sunday is fine. I'd like to get my bearings first. I will end up consoling them, reassuring them, and I can't…can't do that right now."

"That's what your mother said. Very wise woman in many ways, apparently." Miranda could feel Andrea's arms around her still even if the young woman had taken a step back. "So, ready to leave?"

"Yes."

Miranda opened the door. "Nigel? Tell Roy to circle to the one of the side entrances that looks least mobbed by the press."

"Will do."

A nurse arrived with a wheelchair and Andrea slowly sat down, clearly in pain. As if reading Miranda's mind, the nurse gave her and envelope with Andrea's name on it. "Here are some pills to start with. The doctor prescribed more that you can get at your pharmacy. Andy will be sore for a few days."

"Thank you." Miranda tucked into her bag. As the nurse pushed the wheelchair, Miranda made sure that her dragon image clicked in place. It was the only way she knew how to deal with life in public.

##########

To be continued in part 5.


	5. Chapter 5

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 5

##########

They managed to sneak past the few reporters hanging at one of the side entrances to the Presbyterian. Roy waited with the door open, and Nigel helped Andy inside and asked them to relax as much as possible. She still felt a bit foggy, mainly from the painkillers, she surmised. The car smelled familiar, mostly of Miranda's distinctive perfume and new leather. Andy curled up on the seat after pushing off her shoes, the only items she wore of her original outfit, except her panties.

"Are you cold, Andrea?" Miranda adjusted the settings for the backseat on a console in front of them. "There. Better." She regarded Andy thoughtfully. "Lt. Bradley informed me that he and that police woman I met briefly at the school, Liz, will be coming over to take your statement once you're settled at the townhouse. I would've preferred if they held off until tomorrow, but according to Bradley, you're statement is crucial."

"It's okay, Miranda." Andy yawned and belatedly slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes huge. "Sorry."

"We're both tired, I think." Miranda actually looked a little worse for wear, but maybe it was also the lack of makeup. This Miranda seemed more…human, somehow. Andy liked the more human Miranda. A lot.

Andy closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep as Roy navigated the silver Mercedes through the streets. She woke up, surrounded by the unique scent that haunted her dreams. Her head rested against someone's shoulder and someone—_Miranda?_—held Andy's cheek in their hand. Moving slowly, Andy stole a glance upward. Oh, yes, it was Miranda all right. She was snuggled up very cozily to her former boss.

"S-sorry?" Andy found her voice sounding husky and cleared it before trying again. "Didn't mean to do that." She tried to sit up, but Miranda's gentle hand kept her in place.

"We still have two more streets to go before we're home. Just relax."

"Oh. All right." Deciding not to argue, partly because she was really tired, but mostly because being this close to Miranda was a rare gift. "Thank you."

"Silly girl. You're welcome."

Too soon, they arrived at Miranda's Upper East side townhouse. Roy helped Andy out of the car after she pushed her feet back into her shoes and there Miranda took over. She tucked Andy's hand into the crease of her arm and walked up the stairs. Inside, it smelled nice of flowers, and, of course, of Miranda's scent. Andy inhaled and then wished she hadn't when a tear dislodged and ran down her cheek. She stealthily wiped at it, but Miranda of course missed nothing.

"The nurse told me that chicken soup would be preferable tonight, both to keep you warm, but also for its healing benefits. Sandy has made some for us before she left for the day.

"That's nice of her," Andy whispered.

"Let's go into the den and have some before you go to lie down." Miranda helped Andy off with the down jacket and then guided her toward the den that was located just inside the kitchen. She motioned for Andy to sit down in one of the love seats before going to retrieve the soup.

Andy pushed her shoes off again and curled up against the armrest. She had the strangest feeling of being detached, of floating without anything anchoring her. As soon as her mind touched on the memory of bleeding, crying children, her brain quickly let go and scurried off to think of something else. Anything. Miranda's sudden arrival at the scene and how Andy had clung to her cell to hear Miranda's voice, made her feel like she existed in a surreal, alternative reality. It wasn't all that long ago when Andy had spotted Miranda on across the street and pined for a single look from the woman she kept dreaming of. Now she was not only in the same house, but Miranda took care of her, clearly cared _for_ her. She kept touching Andy and if there was something in this world Andy was sure of, nobody made Miranda do anything against her will. So, Miranda wanted, for whatever reason, to take Andy in, care for her, serve her chicken soup—and touch her.

"Here. I thought it might be easier with a mug and a spoon when we're on the couch." Miranda broke into Andy's reverie.

"Wow, it smells good." Andy made a wry face. "How can I be hungry? I shouldn't after today, but I am."

"Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. You are normally a woman with a healthy appetite and unless I'm mistaken, you haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Not even breakfast—just a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip cookie," Andy confessed.

"Then, eat, and whatever you do, don't feel guilty for being hungry."

"Yes, Miranda." Andy blinked, only hearing herself echo the short sentence she'd spoken so many, many times to Miranda while being her assistant. Glancing furtively at Miranda, she saw her lips curl into the faintest of smiles. "Old habits and all that." Andy shrugged, something she instantly regretted as it tore at one of the bandages. "Ow."

"No hasty movements. And no heroics. Take the painkillers when you need them. Nigel will make sure your prescription is filled and the medication delivered to this address."

"Delivered? Wow. Never had medication delivered before. Not even when I was out cold with the flu once."

"I don't remember you ever being on medical leave?"

"I had my worst over a three-day weekend." Andy sighed at the memory. "My former boyfriend really resented that. I screwed up some plans he'd made."

"Sounds like a fine upstanding gentleman." Dry irony laced Miranda's voice. "So, before Paris, then."

"Yes. Memorial Day weekend. I was still going by 'Emily' from your point of view." Andy looked at Miranda between her eyelashes. She liked the conversation and it made her

"Even before the Harry Potter incident." Miranda smiled properly now, which transformed her entire face. She kept eating her soup, motioning for Andy to do the same. "Oh, I knew what toll that took. I just didn't know it would eventually send you into Christian Thompson's arms."

"That was not because of you. That was my lack of judgment, enhanced by too much wine and the beautiful lights of Paris."

"You are so young, Andrea." Miranda put her mug on a side table. "I think you know better than to allow yourself to be manipulated and seduced with a player like him."

"I hope so. I feel pretty green when it comes to some things. Probably the Ohioan in me. Taking things at face value, believing the best about people…except that guy, Dieter, today. I think hc cured me of that last part." Suddenly Andy was trembling so much, what was left of her soup nearly splashed onto her cardigan. "So-sorry."

"Andrea." Miranda rescued the mug. "You need to climb into bed. I think you should use my bedroom to begin with. Just until you're warm. I have a gas fireplace in there.""Yes. Memorial Day weekend. I was still going by 'Emily' from your point of view." Andy looked at Miranda between her eyelashes. She liked the conversation and it made her feel almost human, which she really needed.

"I c-can't take you bedroom." Andy's teeth clattered.

"Yes, you can, because I say to. And I always get what I want." She spoke as if half joking, but Miranda's eyes radiated her usual no-nonsense determination.

"I'm too tired to argue." Andy sighed and pressed a hand against her forehead. She inadvertently touched the sore edge of her scalp and winced.

"Come. I'll help you get settled." Miranda held out her hand and pulled Andy up. "I believe you have an hour, perhaps two, before Bradley and his colleague arrives to get your statement. Might as well make the most of it. You can call your parents any time you want to."

Miranda walked behind her, her hands on Andy's waist as they ascended the stairs. Miranda's bedroom was an amazing room, tranquil with soothing colors, ranging from different shades of white, to beige and caramel. A king size bed practically called Andy's name out loud. It looked so inviting, and she wanted to hide between the sheets, inhale Miranda's scent and wrap her arms around her pillow.

"I can change the sheets—"

"No. Please. I just want to lie down." Andy's cheeks warmed.

"Yes." Not saying anything else, Miranda started the gas fireplace before helping Andy out of the cardigan. She gracefully knelt as she pulled the slacks off Andy's legs, and just as easily rose to her feet to undo the top. "I think you need flannels to stay warm." Miranda turned to a dresser and pulled out a set of light-blue flannel pajamas. She carefully pulled the camisole off, before assisting Andy in donning the pajama shirt. She buttoned it, her eyes locked with Andy's. When Miranda knelt to help pull the pajama pants on, she shocked Andy by casually removing her panties first. "This will be comfortable, I think," Miranda said, and the only reason Andy could tell that her voice was just a little bit strained, was that she knew this woman's intonation so well.

Acutely aware of being half-naked before Miranda, her heart thundering, Andy was relieved to feel Miranda pull the pajama pants on. She was just about to exhale when the back of Miranda's thumbs brushed along her hips and the upper curve of her buttocks when Miranda adjusted the waistband.

Andy hid her face behind a curtain of hair as she crawled into bed, moaning a she tried to adjust to a better position. She closed her eyes, so tired her head was spinning. Tears began to seep out between her eyelashes. Knowing without a doubt that today had changed her life, Andy drew a trembling breath. The bed dipped next to her. She opened her eyes a fraction, blinking a few times against the tears. Miranda sat gazing down at her with this extraordinary tenderness reflected in her eyes.

"Shhh. You're all right. Just relax and go to sleep. Would you like me to sit here and work?" She motioned with her chin over to an enormous armchair.

"Yes. I'd like that," Andy whispered. To her surprise, Miranda didn't move immediately.

Shifting closer, Miranda ran her fingers through Andy's hair, slowly, hypnotically.

"You have gone through so much today, Andrea, and it's normal to feel like you do. Crying, out of sorts, afraid, and worried. Maybe even second-guessing yourself. Just allow yourself to sleep for an hour and then you can call your parents. I have your mother's cell phone number. I'll text her to let her know you are doing all right, and that you're resting before you ring them."

"Thank you. Sounds good."

"Close your eyes, Andrea." Miranda kept caressing her hair. Just as Andy was slipping into a deep sleep, she thought she felt soft lips against her temple and a familiar voice whisper, "I won't let anything happen to you, Andrea."

##########

Miranda put down her cell phone after texting Andrea's mother. Soon it beeped and she read the new message.

_Miranda,_

_Thank you for reassuring us. Let Andy sleep for as long as she needs. We trust our daughter into your hands. Please keep us in the loop regarding the ongoing police work. Unless we hear from you, we will assume everything is all right with our child. Our flight will arrive at 5 PM on Sunday. _

_Thank you._

_Ginny and Richard Sachs_

Miranda sent off a short note saying she received their text. She did wonder about the restraint shown by the Sachs'. If it had been her girls in the same situation, Miranda would have moved heaven and earth to be with them no matter what. Sure, Andrea was an adult, but she was still their daughter. Perhaps they were not on the best of terms and they were trying to give Andrea some space. Miranda shook her head, she didn't understand it.

Opening her laptop, she checked her watch. Lt. Bradley was going to be here with that woman, Liz, in less than an hour at the earliest. If Andrea was still fast asleep, Miranda would do her best to stall them, if nothing else, get them to update her as to how far they'd come in their investigation. She wouldn't hesitate to drop DA Jack McCoy's name yet again if need be.

She logged onto CNN on her laptop and red up on the latest development. Nothing new that she didn't already know, she thought, but then a new set of breaking news appeared. Miranda drew a deep trembling breath and glanced over at Andrea. This would break the young woman's tender, easily bruised heart.

The teacher had not made it. Keisha Johnson, a young woman Andy's age, was dead. Miranda had just about processed the horrible news when the next hit. A little girl, Beth Donovan, was missing. She had been released by the hospital and gone home with her parents, and now she was missing since an hour. They showed the girl's picture and Miranda remembered asking for this child specifically. _This is the child Andrea saved together with the wounded boy._

Torn, Miranda decided to let Andrea sleep, sighing at the thought of having to break such news to Andrea. With such news waiting, she would need to gather all the strength imaginable.

##########

To be continued in part 6

##########


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 6

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Lt. Bradley stood gazing out through the window when Miranda returned to the living room area with Andrea. She narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized his rumpled appearance. It was easy to tell he had a very bad day. Miranda knew policemen and EMTs dreaded having to notify a parent of a child's death. The young teacher couldn't be older than Andrea…the thought of Andrea being the one in the cold morgue gave Miranda pause and she could feel how she paled.

"Andrea, you remember Lt. Bradley, even if you were a bit out of it last time you saw him?"

"Hello." Andrea did her little wave that Miranda knew so well. She made no effort to shake hand; instead she sat down very close to Miranda.

"I'm Liz Grayson." The policewoman clearly read Andrea correctly and refrained from extending her hand. "Good to see you with some color to your cheeks."

"And this is Mike O'Leary, my attorney. I want him here for your benefit, Andrea." Miranda spoke quietly into Andrea's ear, wanting her to understand how important this was. "I want your statement to be witnessed by someone who knows what he's talking about. I trust Mike. Will you allow him to sit in on this meeting?"

"Yes. You trust Mike…" Andrea eyes darkened into a dark chocolate shade. "And I trust _you._"

"Good. Mike, this is Andrea."

"Hello, Andrea. Just answer to the best to your ability. You'll be fine."

"Call me Andy. Please." Andrea pressed against Miranda, but the tremors had become less apparent.

Miranda turned to the others. "Let's get this over with. Andrea needs to go back to bed." She didn't want them to bother Andrea with small talk.

"Please. Have a seat," Andrea said, and normally Miranda would've been scandalized at the young woman having the gall to offer someone a chair in _her_ house, but now she saw it as a positive sign. The fact that Andrea sent Miranda a chastising glance, was encouraging too.

"Thank you." Lt. Bradley rubbed the back of his head and took a seat in one of the arm chairs. Liz sat down next to him and Mike just to their left. "First, I want you to know that the kids that were stabbed in the school yard, including the boy you saved, Yamal, are all expected to make a full recovery unless there are some unforeseen setbacks. Unfortunately, their teacher, Keisha Johnson, didn't make it. She was declared dead on arrival at the Presbyterian."

"Oh, no. No, no…" Andrea pressed a hand over her mouth, turning wide eyes at Miranda. "That b-bastar…"

Miranda put her arm around Andrea, her eyes locked on Bradley. "Go on, Lieutenant."

"Another child, a girl named Beth Donovan, is still missing from her home since two and a half hours. We're not sure if this disappearance is linked to today's events, but that's what comes to mind."

"Beth…" Andrea slumped back. "What are you doing to find her? How did this happen?"

"We have an All-Points Bulletin out on her, and trust me; there isn't a cop in New York that isn't looking for her. We are checking everyone connected with her and everyone connected to Dieter Schroff. I also have detectives following potential links to any of the other children and Ms. Johnson."

"Fuck." It wasn't a cry of outrage, more of a desperate plea. "She was so scared and yet she wouldn't leave Yamal. Did somebody take her? An accomplice?"

"No, not as far as we can tell. She seems to have climbed out onto the fire escape and left her room that way." Liz leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "Please, Andy, can you tell us everything you remember? I'm going to tape your statement if that's all right."

"Mike?" Andrea turned her head to the attorney.

"It's okay, Andy." Mike motioned for Liz to continue.

Liz started the small recorder, rattling off the names of everyone present. "Just take it from when you arrived to the school yard, Andy."

Andrea spoke quietly, and Liz moved the recorder closer. For some reason, this exacerbated the tremors, but Andrea kept going. Miranda used the hand behind Andrea to sooth her, moving it in small circles. She had already given her statement before she went to wake up Andrea, thus giving her a little more rest.

Miranda glanced at Andrea, noticing how pale she was where she sat in her flannels and terrycloth robe. Checking the time, Miranda saw that Andrea had been talking for twenty minutes, giving as many details as they could possibly hope for. Her training as a reporter kicking in, no doubt.

"That's it. Last thing I remember is when Dieter and I went to retrieve the blankets. Next thing I know, I'm on a gurney and Miranda is right there with EMTs and police. I saw you there." Andrea nodded at Bradley. "Then I was in the hospital before Miranda brought me here to recuperate."

"Good. You have an exceptional eye for details, Andy," Lt. Bradley said. "Thank you. We'll let you rest now. I'm sure you're in capable hands here. Thank you, Ms. Priestly."

"You're welcome."

"Lt. Bradley?" Andrea stood on shaky legs. "You have to let me know as soon as you find Beth. I need to know she's all right. She has to be."

"Next to her parents, I promise you'll be the first to know." Bradley smiled briefly. "They are so grateful to you and naturally, now they are very worried."

Miranda saw the police out, and then turned to Mike who stood ready to leave in the hallway. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"What are friends and well paid attorneys for?" Mike shook his head. "She looks so sad. I actually remember her from the office at Runway when I came to pick you up for lunch. It's hard to realize that this is that same vibrant young woman. Dieter Schroff has a lot to answer for."

"I could kill him." Miranda spoke curtly. "I'm not joking."

"I didn't think you were. Instead I know you'll be there for Andy. She really depends on you right now. I can tell." He smiled softly. "If you'll forgive me for being a tad personal, I haven't seen you allowing anyone this near except Cassidy and Caroline."

"I will forgive you, this once." Miranda tried for haughty, but knew from Mike's smile that she failed. "Go home to that poor wife of yours. We'll keep in touch regarding this."

"Good evening, Miranda. Take care of her. Something tells me it's equally important to both of you."

"Out." Miranda air-kissed his cheek and closed and locked behind him. Returning to the living room she found it empty. Frowning she went in search for Andrea, only to find her on all four in the den. "Andrea!" She knelt next to her. "Let me help you."

"I—I just wanted a g-glass of water and—and I got so dizzy—and I—and I—can't breathe."

"Shhh. Andrea. Listen to me. You're having an anxiety attack. It's very unpleasant, but it's not dangerous. Come here." Miranda pulled Andrea with her over to the loveseat. "Just sit her. Here's a blanket. I'll fetch some water. Can I offer you anything else? More soup?"

"No thank you," Andrea said, her teeth still clattering, but she could speak without stuttering at least. "Just some tap water will do."

"You have a strange sense of humor when you put your mind to it. I will bring you nothing of the sort." Shaking her head, Miranda went to the kitchen and return with two opened bottles of Pellegrino mineral water. She only opted to drink from the bottle to help Andrea. If she handed her a crystal glass, she would start trembling even worse from fear of dropping it, no doubt.

"Thank you." Andrea actually managed a smile. "Pellegrino. Of course. Such deja vue."

"Oh, yes?"

"One of the first things I observed at Runway on the day of my interview. Emily running around frantically and pouring Pellegrino, something I hadn't even heard of back then. It stuck in my mind, together with Nigel hollering 'gird your loins' loud enough to be heard over to Brooklyn."

"He did? How odd. I'd never heard him do that."

"Uhm. Of course not. Nobody hollers around you. Ever. And since the expression is used to alert everybody that you are arriving, it would be way too late if he called it when you were already there." Andrea sipped the water. "And now he's going to be on my case for spilling the beans on that."

"He will not." Miranda watched a drop of mineral water run down Andrea's chin. Without realizing what she meant to do, she raised her hand and wiped it away with her thumb.

Andrea's lips parted and she seemed to hold her breath. "Miranda?"

"Just drink some more water, Andrea. It's good for you."

Andrea sipped from her bottle again and then closed her eyes. "I hate feeling this…this week. I don't feel like myself, Miranda. I'm not usually this _needy_."

"I know that. You are not reacting in any way abnormal, Andrea. You've suffered through a horrific even today. Trauma to yourself, physically and emotionally, and witnessing trauma inflicted on others. You have such tender, caring soul. No wonder you feel violated in more ways than one."

"I suppose." Andrea opened her eyes and look at Miranda with a sad expression. "What I'm still trying to wrap my brain around is that I'm here. I your house. Hell, in your _bed_! I've missed you a lot. Missed seeing you every day. Feeling bad about acting immaturely in Paris, even if it was for self-preservation reasons. I second-guessed my actions."

"Right now, I only care that you're safe and that you're here." Miranda busied her hands with the Pellegrino bottle. "I'm aware that I'm not easy to work for, and your personal life suffered—"

"Miranda? Please." Andrea reached out her hand. "You have nothing to apologize for. Not a thing. And the way you're here for me now, it's amazing. I feel very safe here."

"Good." Miranda frowned. "However, you're shivering. Time to get you back to bed."

"All right." Andrea allowed Miranda to help her stand up. "I wonder where Beth is and what's going on? I don't get it."

"Yes, it's worrisome. Such a young child. I'd be devastated if either of my girls was out on their own in New York, and now it's late."

"And cold." Andrea walked slowly, close to Miranda, toward the stairs.

Miranda wrapped and arm around Andrea's shoulders and guided up to the second floor. When she motioned for Andrea to enter her bedroom again, the young woman stopped on the threshold.

"Shouldn't I use one of your guestrooms now? It's time for bed and you—"

"I think you need to stay in here with me. I worry I won't hear you if you need me." Miranda held her breath as Andrea mulled this over.

"Really?" Andrea leaned her head against Miranda's shoulder. "You wouldn't mind?"

"It's a king-size plus bed, as you can tell. Plenty of room. I'll be in the chair working on the Book a few hours yet."

"Do you have a spare toothbrush?"

"I have everything you might need in the second drawer of the vanity." Miranda motioned for the bathroom. "Help yourself. I'll bring the book up in a few minutes."

"Thank you." Andrea turned her head and pressed her lips onto Miranda's cheek.

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Andrea regarded her appearance in the mirror. It had been a completely exhausting task just peeing and washing the parts of her hands that weren't covered with bandages. She had no actual memory of having hurt her palms, but the doctor guessed she had been pushed or fallen, bracing for impact with her hands. She pushed her bangs to the side and winced at the red welts at the hairline to her left. She did remember how it hurt when Dieter pulled her by her along by her ponytail. Andy thought it would be a long time until she ever decided to wear a ponytail ever again.

Her elbows were covered with bandages, as where part of her neck. So perhaps he did nick her with the knife after all? Surely she would remember if he actually cut her? Had the doctor put in any stiches? Damn, she couldn't remember that either. Most of the hospital stay was a blur, and only the thought of Miranda's firm blue eyes, and the gentle touch of her hands, seemed clear in her memory.

"Why am I really here?" Andy murmured as she fumbled with the package of a new toothbrush. Carefully putting toothpaste on it, she moaned as she moved her arm back and forth while brushing her teeth. She debated moving her head instead of her arm, but that made the skin on her neck sting, so that wasn't much better.

Andy would've given her right arm to have a shower, or even better, a bath, but perhaps tomorrow, if she could put some protection over her bandages. She was so tired now; she could fall asleep standing up. Moving toward the door, she forced herself not to slump.

Miranda looked up from the armchair where she sat with the Book and her laptop. She got up immediately, and strode over to Andy, so perhaps she wasn't as successful as she hoped about not slumping.

"I'm okay," Andy said with what she hoped was a confident smile. To her dismay, Miranda's eyes filled with tears. "What? What did I do? Miranda?"

"Let me just help you to bed. You look tired." Miranda wiped quickly at the wetness in her lashes.

Andy frown, worried at Miranda's reaction. Why was she upset? "Did something else happen? One of the children?" She heard her voice go up in panic.

"No, no. Nothing new. Just relax." Miranda sat down on the side of the bed and tucked the duvet in around Andy. "I worry about you. That's all." The words, so often uttered dismissively by Miranda came out sounding so forlorn; it nearly shattered Andy's heart.

"I'm stronger than I seem right now, Miranda." Andy ran her bandage free fingertips over Miranda's cheek, feeling some residual moisture there. "I promise. I won't let this break me. I'll be fine. You're taking such good care of me. Nigel's been wonderful and Emily took care of Runway. Everybody's been amazing, but you, you've shown a side of yourself that I know you don't show many people. You're…everybody knows you're amazing, but they don't _know_ how right they are."

"S-silly girl." Miranda's breath hitched. She leaned down, hesitated a breath from Andy's lips. "Do you promise?" she whispered.

"Promise what?" Andy inhaled Miranda's sweet breath, her body becoming heavy and warm all over. Suddenly she wasn't cold at all.

"Promise me that you'll be fine. That you won't break." Miranda spoke so close to Andy's lips, she nearly touched them.

"Yes, Miranda. I promise."

Miranda brushed her lips across Andy's so softly and without pressure, she wasn't sure it actually qualified as a kiss. It didn't matter. She saw the emotions in Miranda's eyes; the affection, the hunger, the fear, the protection, and it made all the difference.

"Good. Now sleep." Miranda stood abruptly and walked over to her chair. She flipped open the 'Book' and put her reading glasses on. Glancing over the frames, she looked calmly at Andy. "I'll be going to bed in about two hours. I'll try not to wake you."

Andy tried to stay awake for a few minutes, wanting to take the opportunity to study Miranda when she worked on the 'Book', but it was impossible. Sleep lowered her eyelids even if she fought stubbornly to keep them open.

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To be continued in part 7/?.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

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After Paris

By Gun Brooke

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Part 7

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Miranda padded over to the bed and peeled back the covers, careful to not wake Andrea. She had worked for more than two hours on the 'Book', and even if it was Saturday tomorrow, there would be hell to pay for some unfortunate Runway employees. They were going to thank which ever deity they worship that they had to answer to Nigel and Emily, and not Miranda.

Crawling into bed, Miranda glanced over at Andrea who was sleeping with her face deeply buried in her pillow. Only the firm grip of the corner of the pillowcase showed that she wasn't entirely relaxed. Miranda yawned and turned out the light, leaving the room faintly lit by a nightlight in the bathroom.

Something nudged Miranda, waking her. She snapped her eyes open, trying to figure out where the tormented sound came from.

"N-no. No!"

A lanky arm pushed at Miranda again and this time her brain kicked in. A quick glance at the radio alarm clock told Miranda it was 4.24 AM, which meant she had gotten three hours of sleep.

"Andrea?" Miranda turned on the bedside light on its lowest setting before turning to Andrea. "Andrea. Wake up. You're dreaming." She ducked the flailing arms, her heart breaking at the frightened whimpers and the pleading tone.

"No. Please, don't…don't…" Andrea shook so badly, Miranda wrapped both arms around her and held her close. "Don't."

"Andrea. Open your eyes and look at me. You're safe. Andrea."

"What?" Andrea's voice sank to a whisper. "Miranda?"

"You were dreaming."

"I…yes. Oh. Oh!" Andrea shifted, scooting closer. "He's here!"

"What are you talking about?" Miranda rose on her elbow, looking down at the pale face beneath her.

"Dieter. He's here in the house." Andrea's eyes darted around the room. "He…he still has the knife. A long knife."

"As I said. A dream. Nobody's here but you and I." Miranda could tell she wasn't convincing enough for Andrea. "Andrea. Look at me." She hated doing it, but using her dragon lady voice might just work.

"Yes. I'm sorry." Andrea blinked several times and then refocused on Miranda. "Oh, God, it was so real. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"Yes, but I'm glad you did." Miranda moved to lie down on her pillow again. "Try to relax again. You're fine."

"Yes, of course. I know." Andrea bit on her lower lip and fiddled with the corner of her pillow case.

Miranda watched Andrea for a moment, hoping that she would settle down. When she saw how Andrea became increasingly agitated and doing her best to conceal it, Miranda couldn't bear to watch it. "Come here," she said and held out her arms.

Andrea's eyes opened and she looked shocked. "Miranda?"

"You can't relax. I can't sleep if you fiddle like that. So—come here." She waved impatiently, which she hoped would make Andrea scurry across the bed. As it turned out, she was not reading Andrea right. She scurried all right, but away from her.

"No. Oh, no. This was a bad idea. I knew I'd be keeping you awake." Andrea stood up next to the bed. "I…I'll use one of the guest rooms. Third floor, right? You've been so great to me and the least you deserve is a good night sleep—"

"Andrea." Miranda knew this was sheer panic talking. "Please. Come back to bed. Don't you see? I need to have you here. I can't sleep at all if you're not here." Uncomfortable with letting her true emotions show, Miranda clenched one hand around the duvet to anchor herself and reached out for Andrea with the other. "Please."

Looking like a tousled elfin, Andrea stared at Miranda with huge eyes. She drew a deep breath and crawled back into bed. "Really?"

"Yes. Really." Trying again, Miranda held out her arms. "Come."

This time there was no hesitation. Instead, Andrea gave a shy smile and moved into Miranda's embrace, and then hid her face against her neck. "I was so scared."

"I know. I was too."

"I believe you. If the situation had been the reverse, if Dieter had you at knifepoint, I would've been going absolutely crazy."

"I think I did for a moment. I hurt Nigel."

"What? You're joking."

"I most certainly am not. He held me back on Bradley's orders when the snipers shot Dieter and the two of you went down. I was furious and very, very frightened. Altogether horrible."

"Poor Nigel." Andrea pressed her lips against Miranda's neck and then seemed to hold her breath. "Oh. Wasn't thinking. I meant it as, 'and poor you'."

"Ah. A kiss out of pity. I see."

"No!" Andrea gently touched Miranda's cheek with a bandaged hand. "A sympathy kiss."

"There is a difference?" Miranda didn't like how haughty she sounded, but knew no other way.

"Of course there is." Andrea ran her fingertips along Miranda's face. "Pity has a tinge of condescension and sympathy is based in compassion and understanding."

Miranda could hardly believe that it was now Andrea consoling her. Was there no end to this woman's strength? She risked her life to save strange children, chose to remain with an armed madman, and now, after being seriously traumatized and physically hurt, she showed Miranda such compassion. "You are amazing," Miranda whispered. "I think I always knew that."

"What? Me?" Andrea looked up at Miranda, smiling. "Don't be ridiculous, Miranda. I think you're the amazing one."

Grateful for the obvious teasing remark, Miranda raised an eyebrow. "And you are the one for stating the obvious too, as usual."

"Trust me to be redundant." Andrea resumed her position with her head on Miranda's shoulder. "Honestly, if anyone had told me this morning of today's events, I would've thought, hm, well, this is New York, anything can happen. Had the same person told me I'd be in Miranda Priestly's bed and on her shoulder, I would've had them committed to the closest psychiatric ward."

Miranda snorted. "You're not the only one. If the same, clearly delusional individual, would've told me I was going to be lucky enough to have you back in my life, let alone in my arms, I would've…_fired_ them."

"And yet, here we are." Snuggling closer, Andrea sighed. "I chickened out."

"What?"

"I never called my mom. I texted her and told her I was all right. She didn't force the issue."

"You have a falling out?"

"Not entirely, but we've been arguing a lot. I mean, my Dad and I have, and Mom's been trying to not take sides. She hates it when dad and I butt heads, which makes me feel so guilty."

"Not guilty enough to do as he wants though." Miranda hoped not.

"No. I think Mom is glad that I love working at the Mirror, and when the topic of my career isn't the main event, she and I feel as close as we ever were. I've confided a lot in her, and I'm sure she hasn't told Dad about that. He'd freak out completely, since that would only reinforce my standpoint."

Miranda wondered if had anything to do with what Ginny Sachs had let slip while on the phone with Miranda. _Andrea cares about me._ If that was the case, if Miranda was part of the reason Andrea chose to stay in New York, yes, Mr. Sachs wouldn't be thrilled. "You should call them in the morning."

"I know."

"Good." Miranda pressed her lips in a gentle kiss against Andrea's hair, mindful of her sore scalp. "Let's try to get some more sleep."

"Yeah." Andrea hid her face against Miranda's neck again. "I feel safe with you."

_When you're awake._ Miranda held Andrea close and soon she knew from the young woman's deep and even breathing that she had fallen back to sleep.

Andy clasped Miranda's house phone tightly, even if the rigid grip hurt her hands. She had just dialed her parents' house in Cincinnati and it was ringing. Perhaps they weren't home. That'd be great. If she had to call their cell and keep the conversation brief—

"Sachs' residence."

"Mom?" Andy was relieved that it was her mother who'd picked up the phone. "It's me. Andy."

"Andy!" Ginny sobbed. "Oh, baby-girl, so wonderful to hear your voice. How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing fine, Mom. I'm being totally pampered by Miranda and Sandy, her housekeeper. I don't have to lift a finger, which is good. I kind of hurt my palms a bit. Must've fallen."

"We'll be there tomorrow. Miranda texted me early this morning. She's arranged for a hotel room for us. I told her we could stay in your apartment, but she said the hotel was just a block away from her townhouse."

"Take her up on it. She's really being amazing and generous. How's Dad?"

"He's worried. Naturally."

"Worried enough to give me a break tomorrow when he gets here? Or?"

Ginny sighed. "I think you might want to prepare for this fortifying his idea that New York is unsafe for a single young girl."

"I'm not a _girl._" Andy sighed. "I'm not a child." She frowned, and regretted it as it tore at her sore scalp. Again. "Maybe if he's going to let his visit be about this constant nagging, he should stay home."

"Andy…I'll talk to him. Of course he's worried and he's afraid for you. We've seen the events run over and over on CNN."

"Don't look at it anymore." Andy felt fatigue fill her. "Please, Mom. You know I'm all right with superficial, minor injuries. No need to torture yourself."

"All right. I'll just watch the press conference at 2 PM, and that new footage they talk about. Then that's it, I promise. Tell Miranda we're grateful."

"I will—wait, what new footage?" Andy drummed her fingertips on Miranda's desk.

"The news anchor just said they have some new surveillance footage they're releasing with hope of finding little Beth Donovan, since she's apparently visible. I think you might be too."

"Oh, God. Oh, God, oh God…" Andy hid her face in her arms. "I can't believe that. Surely there must be great pictures of Beth, much better quality than some grainy surveillance film? They're just doing this for fuc—damn ratings. Mom. I gotta go. I really do. I'll see you tomorrow. Call me when you land, okay?"

"But Andy—"

"I really am very tired, Mom."

"Of course. I understand." Ginny sounded hurt, but Andy couldn't take it in.

"Mom, don't be upset. I'm doing fine. Tomorrow when you get here, I'll be doing even better. We'll visit a few days, and you can go back to Cincinnati knowing I'm healing and doing just great."

"All right. Rest up, baby-girl, and we'll see you tomorrow."

Andy hung up and curled up in Miranda's leather desk chair. "I can't believe it."

"Andrea?" Miranda stood in the doorway, one hand on the door frame, the other one on her hip. "What's the matter?"

"What's not the matter? Mom is absorbed by the news reel, and oh, by the way, they'll be showing yours truly—new footage—at 2 PM. Surveillance footage. I have no idea what that will show. Why didn't Bradley or your buddy McCoy tell us?"

"He did. I just found out. Seems the decision was made by the Chief of Police. Jack wasn't too thrilled, but he saw the potential value in getting as many people looking at footage of Beth Donovan as possible. The thing is, people want to see you, and since this shows Beth and you—"

"And Dieter." Andy barely managed to get his name across her lips. "Let's not forget that it shows the maniac…"

"We don't know that."

"Miranda. You're the one who hates when someone tries to bullshit you. So don't do it to me."

Miranda sighed. "All right. Let's watch it together and then we'll know." She walked over to Andy, leaning her hip against the desk. "The most important thing is that they find the girl, isn't it?"

Andy gasped. "Are you insinuating that I'm so self-absorbed that I'd prevent them to air it if I could, and not take any chance of finding Beth? You're joking right? Don't you know that I'd be walking the streets, all of them, up and down, as long as it took to find her? And you're saying I'm so selfish…how can you want me here if you think I'm that selfish…?" Tears of anger and disappointment ran down Andy's cheeks and she could hardly breathe.

"Andrea, darling, don't. Don't." Miranda cupped her cheeks, brushing away tears from her cheeks and her eyelashes. "I would never call you selfish and neither would anyone else. You are anything but selfish. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind if you were just a little more selfish, for self-preservation reasons for instant."

"What? Oh? Oh." Andy sobbed and snorted at the same time. "Oh, boy. I—I think I panicked."

"I would have to agree." Miranda's blue eyes were warmer than Andy had ever seen them. "I came to get you. Sandy has made sandwiches and coffee. You up for something to eat?"

"Yeah. Coffee sounds great." Andy stood, feeling dizzy. "Whoa."

"Careful." Miranda held on to her with both hands around her shoulders. "You're not entirely steady yet."

"Uhm. Miranda…" Andy hesitated. "You realize you just called me darling?" She hardly dared look at Miranda, not sure how she would take the reminder. What if it had been a mere slip, or even said without any meaning to it whatsoever. Andy regretted bringing it up.

"Well. Do you object?" Miranda spoke cautiously, still holding Andy in place by her shoulders.

"No. No, no. On the contrary." Andy smiled, because she knew Miranda well enough to know she wouldn't hide any displeasure. "I liked it."

"What a relief." Miranda tucked Andy's left hand into the crease of her arm. "Let's go to the den. Sandy put everything out for us on the coffee table so you would be comfortable."

"She was always nice to me even when I was a mere minion at Runway."

"You were never just a mere minion. Trust me, you stood out from day one."

"As the smart, fat girl with good work ethics and a bad haircut—and a grandmother skirt."

"Who said that?"

"You and Emily, and even Nigel remarked that my size was the new fourteen. He even threw out my corn chowder, right in front of me. Granted, it was so I wouldn't miss your run-through."

"Oh, my. Don't tell me. The Cerulean blue debacle?" Miranda helped Andy lower herself onto the love seat. "There. Comfortable?"

Andy tugged a pillow into the small of her back. "Now I am. And yes, that was the time you wrung me out and hung me to dry."

"It was a lovely color on a deplorable poly-blend shirt." Miranda shuddered. "And you were really quite snobbish." Miranda sipped her coffee and regarded Andy over the rim. "So certain you had us superficial people pegged?" Her eyes sparkled.

"And you're teasing me. Goading me even." Andy bit into the decorative cucumber sandwiches, tilting her head. "Why is that? You know I saw the errors of my ways when I understood what this multi-billion dollar industry really is about, and how many jobs are involved. You're up to something, Miranda Priestly?"

"I have not the foggiest what you are referring to." Miranda now smiled openly. "You did see the light in the most amazing ways. I didn't get to see you in those stunning boots up close and personal, but Nigel confessed he gave them to you, to keep, since, and I quote 'you made even him reconsider his sexual orientation'."

Andy had just sipped her coffee and barely swallowed it before she burst into laughter. "What? Oh, you're making that up."

"I am not."

"Nigel was being silly then." She shook her head. Again, she rewound the conversation. "Wait. You…You said you—hm, did you mean you wished you'd seen the boots?"

"On you, yes. I heard from Serena what an impact you made on everybody."

Serena was Runway's best makeup artist and hopelessly in love with Emily. "Oh, she only said that to get under Em's skin."

"Why would she want to do that?" Miranda's eyes glittered now and she looked like she had a hard time remaining serious.

"Because she wants to get into Emily's heart as well as her pants," Andy deadpanned.

"Andrea!" Miranda's eyes widened and she looked scandalized. "You're being outrageous."

"And you're avoiding the issue."

"Issue? What issue?" Still hiding behind her coffee mug, Miranda all but batted her perfectly mascara-darkened eyelashes.

"The issue of why you would like to see me in thigh-high leather boots, which by most is regarded as an overtly sexy accessory."

Slowly placing her mug on the coffee table, Miranda leaned back against the armrest. "I am very partial to aesthetically pleasing visions. You, darling, are that and more. And I know enough now of your legs that I can picture how you'd look in those boots. I can see how they would change your walk, how even a fresh and natural girl like you can become sultry with just the change of footwear."

"S-sultry? Me?" Andy wondered now what Sandy had put in Miranda's coffee. "I'm—I'm just me. I look okay, but I'm not a Runway model. Not even close."

"Oh, Andrea." Miranda smiled broadly. "Thank God, you're not. You're stunning, and normally I wouldn't call you sultry, but you're most certainly sensual and with an innate sexiness."

"You deduct that from how I might have looked while wearing tall boots?" Andy was skeptical.

"No. I deduct that from how you make me feel when I look at you right this moment, bandages and all." Miranda slid closer. "And no, before you go off on another suspicious rant, I'm not saying this to distract you from noticing the time is 2 pm now." She held up the remote to the 42 inch flat screen television on the wall. "Do you want to see the news?"

Andy sighed. "I guess we better. You will watch with me, right?"

"Try to stop me," Miranda murmured and switched the television on.

"Afterward, unless I'm angry enough to shoot someone, or perhaps _if_ I'm angry enough to shoot someone, may I ask a favor?" Andy scooted closer to Miranda.

"You may."

"I might require a diversion."

"Yes?"

"I think I will need you to kiss me. A real kiss. Unless it freaks you out. Or repels you."

"It doesn't. Nothing can 'freak me out' or 'repel me' when it comes to you Andrea."

CNN's signature for breaking news made Andy jump. "Guess this is it. I'm just going to keep my fingers crossed that they'll tell us Beth is safe."

Miranda placed her arm around Andy's shoulders. "I will cross mine as well."

The news anchor came into view. "Yesterday's hostage situation when five children were stabbed and severely wounded, and a young teacher fatally injured, has a new development. One other girl, who wasn't physically hurt after being rescued together with one of the stabbed children, has gone missing."

"Damn." Andy wiped at new tears as Beth's picture was shown. The anchor woman gave Beth's description and what she wore when she was last seen. "And we have new footage, released by the NYPD, where we'll see just how brave the young New York Mirror reporter Andrea Sachs was when she came to the rescue of the young children."

"Oh. My. God." Andy pressed her cheek against Miranda's shoulder, gazing at the TV between the tresses of her hair.

##########

Continued in pt 8/?

##########


	8. Chapter 8

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 8

##########

Miranda almost heard the bones in her hand grind together when Andrea squeezed it tight. She wrapped an arm just as closely around Andrea's shoulders as the new anchor disappeared and a slightly grainy film clip begun.

Focusing, Miranda tried to ignore the ice cubes that slowly slithered up and down her spine. The camera was clearly mounted on one of the tall building around the schoolyard. It showed a different angle from the screens in the police van.

"Here we see Andrea Sachs being pulled into over to the swing set by the little girl who identified herself as Beth Donovan later. As you can tell, a boy, Yamal Mahale, is wounded and not moving."

Miranda watched Andrea check the boy's breathing and pulse. Next to her, Andrea shivered with a fine tremor.

"Oh, God. Look. See the blood on my hand?"

Miranda did. Even at the distance, the dark matter covering Andrea's hand as she pulled out from behind the boy's neck, made her stomach churn. A slow-burning fury spread throughout Miranda's belly. _I hope he dies._

"Clearly the girl refuses to leave Ms. Sachs and Yamal, and now Ms. Sachs pulls up her cell phone. We're not sure who she's calling, but probably it's the police."

"No. Pam," Andrea whispered.

"Pay attention to the left corner of the screen." The news anchor lowered her voice. "Ms. Sachs can't see it from where she's standing, but the suspect is approaching her. Now she turns around. It's shocking images."

Miranda stared, her eyes narrowing as she saw Dieter Schroff grab Andrea around the neck and place a huge knife against her neck. His mouth was moving as he pressed against her from behind.

Next to her, Andrea was whimpering. "He…he was very strong."

"Don't look." Miranda pulled Andrea closer, pressing her face against her neck. "Don't look at it."

"You're right," Andrea sighed. "I can't. Bad idea. Very bad idea."

The news anchor went through the footage, taken with three different cameras, showing the events with different angles and resolution, but clear enough for all the viewers to get a good look at Dieter, Andrea, and most importantly the missing Beth. "The police also have similar footage of the initial violence carried out against the other four children and their teacher, but they are not releasing them since not all next of kin has been notified."

Miranda knew they'd be showing the surveillance tapes over and over, as the news channels tended to do. Turning off the flat screen she tipped Andrea's head back. "It's time for a nap for you, I think."

"Are you going to work?"

"Yes. I have some articles to read and Nigel sent me the photos he selected from a photo shoot. He's done the brunt of the work. Speaking of Nigel, he asked if he, Emily and Serena could come over later tonight and say hello."

"Sure, if it's okay with you. I need to see for myself that Nigel is all right."

"Oh?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"You hurt him, you said?" Andy gave a weak smile.

"Ah. True. How about we call Smith & Wollensky for dinner for all five of us?"

"God. Emily will freak. Has she ever had dinner here? Have either of them?"

"Nigel, on a few occasions." Miranda stood and held out her hand. "Why don't you have a nap on the couch in my study? I know from personal experience that it's very comfortable to sleep on."

"Fallen asleep with the 'Book', huh?" Andrea stood and allowed Miranda to guide her with an arm around her waist.

"Yes. On more occasions than I can count."

"You work so hard. You push people to the limit, but you push yourself way over the limit most of the time." Andrea shook her head. "Not many people realize that. Took me a while."

"Thank you." Miranda knew most of her subordinates, and definitely her ex-husbands, weren't aware the amount of work it took to keep her position at Runway. If she relaxed even a little, all she'd worked for could be yanked away from her in a heartbeat. For Andrea to even touch on the subject, and in passing like this, was—refreshing.

The couch was wide and soft. Andrea placed several of the large pillows against the armrest and curled up, smiling tiredly at Miranda. "You promised me a diversion."

"I believe I did." Miranda's heart picked up speed and she knew she was blushing. Sitting down next to Andrea, she gently brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Turning, she took a cashmere throw from the armchair next to the couch and tucked it in around Andrea. Nervously licking her lips, Andrea's rapt attention didn't escaper her. Inwardly muttering against her sudden onset of nerves, Miranda bent and softly brushed her lips against Andrea's. Full lips. Soft. Miranda closed her eyes and made sure she didn't weigh down on Andrea's body.

Instead, it was Andrea who wrapped her arms around Miranda's neck and held on tightly. She sighed against Miranda's lips as she placed several little soft pecks along them, as if conditioning them for things to come.

Miranda's breath caught in her throat. This was so new, so unexpected, and not anything she ever thought would happen to her. Miranda had seen more beautiful women in a multitude of stages of undress, and never thought anything of it. Now, Andrea, in her eyes more beautiful than any other woman, so sensual and—goodness—oozing sex by a mere glance, wanted Miranda's kisses. A small voice in Miranda's head wanted to question why, but then Andrea ran the tip of her tongue along Miranda's lower lips, effectively silencing it.

"Mm," Andrea moaned. "Miranda."

Miranda's stomach muscles clenched, making her tremble just as much as Andrea had done before. She used her thumb to press against Andrea's chin, coaxing her mouth to open more. When Andrea willingly went along, Miranda couldn't hold back anymore. Slipping her tongue fully inside Andrea's mouth, she kissed her just as deeply as she craved. Realizing that she'd wanted this for longer than she'd confessed even to herself, she explored Andrea's mouth thoroughly. Reveling in taste, texture, but mostly in the fact that Andrea reciprocated the caresses with the same passion. When Miranda eventually reached the point where she needed to either stop or take it further than either of them was ready for, she pulled back, gasping for oxygen. She searched Andrea's features, looking for signs of how she felt, and for the first time since the assault, Andrea's eyes glittered and her full lips smiled.

"I meant to kiss you very briefly." Miranda touched her own lips with her index finger. "Guess we can safely say that didn't work."

"And now?"

"Honestly?" Miranda licked her lips. "My brain is completely occupied with planning for when I can kiss you again."

Andrea smiled broadly, that blinding smile that no warm-blooded person could ever be immune to. "You and me both."

"Good. Now, I have to work, and you have to rest. So. Rest."

"Okay." Andrea curled up with the throw and closed her eyes. Miranda walked over to her desk and pulled out some folders from a briefcase. She glanced over at Andrea and smiled when she saw she was already asleep. Miranda spread the photos Nigel sent over across her desk and tried to focus on the models, their poses, and the clothes they showed. Somehow, the faces of the women morphed into Andrea's. Miranda groaned and knew she was in big trouble. If she approached the situation with her intellect, she would move Andrea to a guestroom, or let her go home with her parents. She just about risked everything by allowing Andrea into her life, her heart. Glancing at the sleeping woman, her chest constricted, and yet the sight of Andrea was like…like she belonged.

##########

"Andy," Serena said and gently hugged her. Andy winced as the tall Brazilian woman inadvertently pushed against one of her bruises.

"Let her breathe, Serena," Emily said, frowning as she regarded all the bandages that were visible. "Are you in pain?" she asked.

"A little. I have some pills I can take."

"Hello, Six," Nigel said and hung his coat in the closet. "You look about a 100% better than yesterday."

"Thank you. I think." Andy smiled, happy to see Nigel. "Now, we need to clear something up. Where did Miranda bite you?"

"What?" Nigel paled and looked from Andy to Miranda and back again.

"What's she talking about, Nigel?" Emily asked, looking shocked.

"I have no clue. Andy?"

"She's referring to my scratching your hands." Miranda showed up in the doorway to the kitchen, rolling her eyes.

"Oh. That. Ha-ha." Nigel cleared his throat. "That was nothing."

"Actually, I want to see myself." Miranda came closer, holding out her hand.

Looking like he was afraid he'd lose one of his hands, he extended the right one to Miranda. Andy peered over Miranda's shoulder. "Oh, wow."

"Nigel!" Miranda gasped. "These must have bled badly. I'm so sorry."

"You were…concerned. We both were. I didn't feel it at the time. The ER nurses helped me out." He looked embarrassed. "It's nothing. Really."

"It most certainly is. There could be scarring." Miranda frowned and Andy could tell she was upset.

"If there are, Nigel's reputation for being tough will only soar," Andy said, trying to defuse the situation. "People will think twice before messing with him."

"True," Emily said. "Nigel can deceptively docile. Doesn't hurt to have some battle scars to demonstrate if need be."

"God almighty, I never knew you were so blood thirsty, Emily," Nigel said, shaking his head.

"And before this conversations goes completely down the drain, why don't we go into the dining room. The food arrived just a minute before the three of you. Can you help me, Emily?"

"Yes, Miranda."

Nigel, Serena and Andy walked into the dining room where Miranda had set a beautiful table.

"Oh, this is stunning," Serena said, regarding the crystal glasses, the Rosenthal china, and Italian linen table cloth. "Beautiful."

"I didn't offer to help." Andy held up her bandaged hands. She had changed the first set of bandages with Miranda's help, and even if these were smaller, she was fairly well covered up still. "Hence me drinking from a mug with an ear. I don't want to have any of Miranda's crystal glass wear on my conscience."

"Smart move." Nigel winked at her.

Miranda and Emily joined them with serving plates full of food, a wide selection from Smith & Wollensky. Miranda sat down net to Andy. "What would you like, Andrea?"

"Some steak. Green beans. Baked potatoes."

Miranda proceeded to cut Andy's steak in bite size pieces, as well as the vegetables. "Like so?"

"Perfect. Thanks." Andy looked up at the others, finding herself staring at three slack jawed faces. "Uhm. We found out the hard way that I shouldn't handle sharp objects. I draw the line at forks."

"Did you hurt yourself trying to cut something?" Serena frowned.

"No." Andy exchanged a solemn look with Miranda. "I seem to get the shakes around knives in general."

"It's only been one day, Andrea." Miranda motioned for the other three to help themselves. "Now, tell me, Emily, what's it like to be me at Runway?"

Emily jumped, sending Nigel a murderous glance. "I assure you, Miranda, I'm not trying to be you."

"It's true," Serena added. "As it turns out, our Emily has her very own way to instill fear in the minions."

"I do not. I mean…I want to get things done and I let everybody know." Emily's cheeks turned pink. "I suppose I can be a bit stern."

"A bit?" Serena and Andy said simultaneously.

"I'm glad you're showing such promise." Miranda drank from her water. "I have kept you as my first assistant longer than any other, and there were naturally reasons for that."

Emily's eyes widened. "Thank you." She looked down at her steamed vegetables and then over at Serena's plate. "The baked potato…is it as good as it smells?" she asked tentatively.

It was Andy's turn to lose cohesion in her jaw. Emily eating carbs. Was the world coming to an end?

"It's very good." Serena took Emily's fork from her hand and scooped up a piece of the buttery potato. "Here. See if you like it." Rather than handing the fork back to Emily, she fed the potato to her and Emily opened her mouth obediently. Andy thought probably from pure shock.

"Good?" Serena asked.

Emily swallowed and glanced around the table. "Very." She took one of the smaller baked potatoes from the serving platter.

They chatted back and forth, studiously avoiding the topic that Andy knew were in the back of everyone's mind. It was a relief and Andy knew if she brought it up, they'd be prepared to listen.

Suddenly the phone rang, and Andy jerked, dropping her fork with a resounding clatter.

Miranda rose and walked into the kitchen. Andy got up and followed her, standing in the doorway.

"Priestly residence." Miranda spoke curtly, the dragon lady back in action. "Yes. This is her. Any news of Beth Donovan? I see. Yes. No. Absolutely not. You can only contact Ms. Sachs only through her attorney, Michael O'Leary of O'Leary, Stromberg & Nord." Miranda listened for a few moments, her face hardening. "You do not need a lineup, not if you take the opportunity to regard any of the multitudes of video clips you found it prudent to share with CNN and other news channels. Dieter Schroff is visible from all angles. No."

Andy began to tremble and clung to the door frame. So they wanted her to come in for a lineup? Why? What if they made her? The thought of leaving the safety of Miranda's townhouse made her knees start to give in. Gentle hands held her by her waist from behind. Another person, Serena wrapped her arm around Andy's shoulders and held her close. Emily circled around her and stood to her left.

Miranda, in the meantime, looked like a feral animal, her upper lips pulled back. "I suggest you talk to Lt. Bradley, or Detective Liz Grayson. I believe this is their case. I don't think they'll take to kindly to you trampling all over their work to score media points. Better yet, why don't you disturb AD Jack McCoy during his dinner and see what he thinks of your groundbreaking idea?"

Andy watched Miranda hung up on whoever was on the phone. When Miranda saw how their dinner guests had all rallied around Andy, her eyes softened. "Andrea. You don't have to do anything. This was some fool who thought they could bully you into making an appearance. They don't need you to identify Dieter Schroff. The bad news regarding him being in a lineup at all is that he's clearly well enough to be released from hospital."

"They said nothing about Beth?"

"Still nothing on her whereabouts, darling. At least according to the idiot I just talked to. I know Bradley and Liz would call us if they had news." She walked up to Andy, cupping her cheek. "You want to eat some more or have you had enough?"

"I think I want to go and lie down."

"I'll help you upstairs."

"We'll take care of the dishes, Miranda," Serena said. "You just take care of Andy."

"Well. Thank you."

Andy hugged them all and thanked them for being there, for her, and for Miranda too. She noticed they looked a bit wide eyed, but seeing Miranda in action when she was really pissed off and not merely annoyed, could be enough to terrify the toughest of people.

Miranda wrapped an arm around Andy's waist and walked her upstairs, into her bedroom, not even bothering to mention anything about a guestroom.

##########

Nigel, Serena, and Emily carried out the empty plates and the leftovers. They walked in silence until Nigel felt he couldn't keep quiet anymore. "Did you hear what I heard?" he murmured.

"I thought I was hallucinating," Emily said, as she poured detergent in the sink and began hand washing the crystal glasses.

"And the way she looked at Andy," Serena filled in. "Even if she hadn't called her darling, the look in her eyes…on her face…"

"This stays between us." Nigel looked at the two women, never been more serious. "If this got out. You can imagine."

"They'd have to kill me first," Emily said, her lips a fine line.

"Over my dead body," Serena agreed. "And you know, I don't think it was a slip of her part. She was reassuring Andy, and she knew very well that we could hear and see everything."

"She trusts us." Emily swallowed. "I know I've complained about Andy many times, and been less than friendly to her, but, God forgive me, if I had access to that Dieter fellow—" A tear ran down her cheek.

Serena wiped the tear away and kissed the top of Emily's head. "I think you'd have your own private ninja-party in Nigel and me. Right, Nigel?"

Nigel sighed, knowing full well that if Miranda ever got her hands on Dieter Schroff, this discussion would be a moot point. He had known Miranda for twenty years or so, and knew her better than most. Nigel didn't know if Miranda had recognized it, or confessed it even to herself yet, but she was clearly in love with Andy Sachs. He sighed inwardly as he put the leftovers into containers and stacked them in the fridge. It was now up to the 'ninja-party' gang present in this kitchen to help keep this secret for as long as they needed to.

##########

To be continued in part 9/?


	9. Chapter 9

**After Paris**

By Gun Brooke

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**Part 9**

##########

Andy sat up in bed, her eyes wildly scanning the faintly lit bedroom. She was alone and she couldn't hear anything that suggested Miranda's location. What if something was wrong? She glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 2.33 AM. Was Miranda working? Another look around the room showed Miranda's reading glasses on top of the 'Book' over by the armchair. So, not working, at least not on the 'Book'.

"Miranda?" Andy called out. "You there?" No answer. Andy stood on wobbly legs and that's when she saw the ensuite door was closed. Ah. Miranda had to use the bathroom like everybody else, naturally.

Andy sat down on the side of the bed, not ready to lie down again. She would just wait for Miranda to join her. It was rather ridiculous how dependent Andy had become on Miranda for her wellbeing, her sense of security. Tapping her toes to the floor, Andy tried to be patient. Her nerves were frayed, she knew that, and tapping her foot wouldn't bring Miranda back from the bathroom sooner.

She heard the plumbing buzz, the sound she'd learned meant that someone was showering or drawing a bath. Miranda was bathing? In the middle of the night? Worried now, Andy stood and walked over to the door. "Miranda? You okay?" she asked and tapped on the doorframe with her nails.

"Andrea? I should ask you the same," Miranda said, her voice sounded both muted and husky through the door. "I thought you were sound asleep."

"I…I had a dream." _A nightmare._

"You can come in. I'm not going to shock you."

_What?_ Andy carefully tried the knob and opened the door. "You sure?"

"Yes." The impatience was clear in Miranda's voice.

Moving faster, Andy stepped inside the slightly steamed up bathroom. Miranda was in fact having a bath, and was, unfortunately, covered by a thick layer of enviable foam. The scent was a mix between lavender and sandalwood, which was probably meant to soothe the senses. In Andy's case, it had the opposite effect. She drew in the aroma and the sight of Miranda's wet, creamy shoulders. Andy thought she deserved a medal for not moaning.

"That's a strange expression." Miranda leaned her head back, exposing her neck.

"Wh-what is?" Andy stared at the expanse of skin.

"The look on your face. You in pain?" Miranda's eyes lost their dreamy expression.

"No. I mean, not a lot. Much." She waved her hand evasively.

"Come sit next to me. There's a foot stool over there." Miranda pointed to the far corner. "I'll keep you on my level so I don't sprain my neck."

Andy retrieved the foot stool, trying to get a grip of her raging hormones. Had there ever been a more beautiful woman than Miranda Priestly? Damp, void of makeup, her hair slightly mussed…God. She sat down next to the Jacuzzi.

"You warm enough?" Miranda frowned.

"Yes." _You're kidding, right?_

"Good." Miranda shifted, sending waves through the foam and nearly uncovering parts of herself. "Now, what about this dream. A nightmare?"

"Sort of. I woke up and you weren't there. I… I was worried."

Miranda tilted her head, her piercing eyes not wavering. "Why?"

"Same dream. Again. He—Dieter—was in the house. This time, he…he pressed the-the knife against your neck." Andy looked at Miranda's flawless neck, her skin looking like that of a much younger woman. It was sometimes easy to forget that Miranda was twice Andy's age, except those times when she made Andy feel like she was immature and silly. Andy blinked. That hardly happened anymore. Had Andy matured that much, or was it Miranda's attitude?"

"Well, as you can see, I'm unharmed." Miranda ran wet fingertips along her neck.

"Yes. Thank God. You saw the knife, didn't you? On the surveillance tapes? It was horrible. Gory bloodstains from the ch-children and that teacher all over it. His hands. Same. I could smell it." Swallowing hard, Andy gave a muted whimper as she leaned against the tub.

"I'm just about done here. If you weren't still covered in bandages, I'd offer you to join me, but as things are, I better get out instead." Miranda shifted as if to stand up and Andy quickly got up and turned her back.

"You need anything? A towel?"

"Thank you. Yes. The one on the vanity."

Andy took the amazingly fluffy towel and handed it behind her to Miranda. "Here you go." Her eyes went to the steamed up mirror where she stared transfixed at the blurry image of a naked Miranda. When she was certain Miranda had wrapped the bath towel around her, Andy turned around. "Were you in pain?"

"Just my usual shoulder and neck pain. Stress makes it worse."

"I've cause you a lot of stress," Andy said remorsefully.

"Not you, but the fact that you're hurt and all the other facts around the attack." Miranda walked close to Andy. "Let me get ready for bed and I'll join you, all right?"

"Okay." Andy was reluctant for Miranda to be out of sight, but told herself she was acting beyond silly. "I'll be in bed."

"Good. Don't want you to get cold."

Andy returned to the bedroom, but instead of returning to bed, she walked over to the window overlooking the garden. The darkness was only lit up by some garden lanterns and she shuddered as her imagination as they turned the shadows into man-shaped forms. Andy pressed her hand against the cold glass, hoping this would bring her into reality, but all it did was making her shiver even more. Her mind reeled and it was as if her brain was trying to conjure up one horrendous scenario after another. She hated her inability to override her fears. Always being afraid of darkness, and prone to dreaming and even sleep-walking, Andy had learned over the years to not let it rule her. Now her defenses were down, but even knowing this, she found it damn near impossible to remain calm and reasonable.

"Andrea." The soft timbre of Miranda's voice together with the gentle touch and the scent engulfed Andy.

"You're freezing."

"I thought it might help. You know. To focus. It doesn't." Andy resisted Miranda's attempt to get her to turn around. "She's out there somewhere. Beth. For whatever reason, she's alone in this enormous, cold city." Andy kept one hand on the window pane and the other pressed against the dull ache in her stomach. She was only wearing minor bandages on her hands now, but they were still tender.

"I know, darling." Miranda took a firmer grip around Andy's shoulders. "You're not helping the child by doing this. You need not hurt yourself or make yourself freeze."

"Then what should I do? I ever thought of taking a cab to the office. Just to do something. I'm sure I can type if I'm careful."

"You'll do no such thing, Andrea." Miranda sounded stern. "We're going back to bed, if I have to drag you there." Miranda ushered Andy back to the bed, not giving her any chance to hesitate. "Tomorrow you'll feel stronger and we can check in with Bradley and Liz."

"Okay." Andy fidgeted, shifting from left to right only to find herself pulled onto Miranda's shoulder. The lavender scent surrounded her and made it impossible to do anything else but to sink into the soft embrace. "I wish I could just snap my fingers and make it all go away, just for a little while," Andy whispered.

"You're not alone in thinking that." Miranda tipped her head back. "This nightmare, which is far from over for any of us, and certainly not for the poor child, is almost too hard to bear when I try to take it all in. One reason I needed to relax was because I kept seeing the images from the surveillance tapes in my head."

"I'm sorry." Andy knew that Miranda was personally involved in this because of her. "You've got enough on your plate—"

"It's who I have in my bed right now that matters." Miranda turned on her side, facing Andy. There was enough light in the room to make her features fully visible and Andy drank in the sight of the woman she loved.

"I feel like that too." Andy raised a hesitant hand an outlined Miranda's left eyebrow with her index finger. "Right now, right here, when you look at me like that, you're—everything."

Miranda's eyes darkened. "You can't say such things unless you mean them," she said, her lips tense. "I don't know what I'd do if you say it…only to take it back…or regret it."

"I don't say it lightly. I can't imagine anyone saying anything to you that they couldn't swear to."

Miranda snorted, but it was more of a huff; a thoroughly unhappy sound. "If you only knew. On every level in my life, people try to fool me, pull the wool over my eyes, and flatter me with insincere intentions. Fortunately, I've become good at weeding out the most obvious ones and snoop out the ones who think they're clever enough even if it takes time." Miranda pulled gentle fingers through Andy's hair and down her arm. "You, saying that to me, has the potential to really hurt me, and yet I'm inclined to believe you, I even _want_ to believe you—" Miranda's voice sank to a barely audible whisper. "The alternative is unthinkable."

"The alternative? Oh." Andy took Miranda's wandering hand in hers and pressed it, palm first, against her lips. "You mean, you don't want to close yourself off and send me to the guestroom?"

"Yes. Something like that. I'm not the lovey-dovey type. You know that." Miranda drew a trembling breath as Andy kissed her palm again. "You make me act out of character. Not only that. I. Can't. Stop. Thinking. About you." Miranda pressed her forehead against Andy's, their breaths mingling. "I can't say why this feels so inevitable now, when just a few days ago, it seemed impossible. Unattainable. What do you think?"

"Me? You're barking up the wrong tree if you think I have answers." Andy drew a wet trail with her tongue along Miranda's thumb, making it twitch. "I had settled for spotting you across the street whenever possible on my way to or from the Mirror. Whenever I saw you, I allowed myself to live on that for a few days at least. Some would call that pathetic."

"I wouldn't. I saw you too."

"You're easier to spot. That said, I think I scared the living daylights out of a women who was clearly trying to emulate you." Andy sighed and felt her cheeks warm. "She was actually on my side of the street, which should have been a clue. Thankfully, I didn't say anything truly embarrassing."

"What did you say to this woman?" Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I just came out of Starbucks and so I had this idea that I'd joke a little…talk about crashing and burning." Andy groaned and pressed Miranda's hand against her eyes. "I said 'Slumming, Miranda? Are they making you get your own latte these days?'"

Andy glanced at Miranda between the fingers of the hand she held on to. Miranda's eyes grew wide and her mouth turned into a perfect 'o'. "You didn't?"

"Yup. I did." Andy sighed. "The woman stared at me as if she thought I'd mug her or something. No pun intended."

"Pun?"

"Uhm. Mug. Starbucks. Ah. Never mind."

"Silly girl." Miranda ran a finger down Andy's nose. "Had I known you'd dare to speak to me, I would've gone slumming on the other side of the street a long time ago."

Speechless, Andy just looked at Miranda. She couldn't think of a single thing to say. Cupping Miranda's neck, she gently pulled her closer, mindful to give her ample time to protest. When that didn't happen, Andy pressed her lips, suddenly voraciously hungry, against Miranda's. She had never experienced such intoxicating softness. What was wrong with Miranda's ex-husbands? How could anyone walk away from this? From these feelings and this amazing, stunning woman? Andy pressed gentle kisses around Miranda's mouth, down on her chin and along her jawline. "Please. Please."

"What?" Sounding drunk Miranda clung to Andy, her breathing labored.

"Open your mouth for me. Let me?" Andy deepened the kiss as soon as Miranda complied. Feeling as if she died a thousand deaths, every part of her ignited and absorbed the silky feel of Miranda's mouth and tongue. For the second time in as many days, Andy was kissing Miranda. Kissing _Miranda_.

##########

Miranda gasped for air when Andrea began tracing her neck with those luscious lips of hers. Hardly able to breathe, Miranda held on, ran her hands in circles on Andrea's back. Eventually her movements had pulled the pajama jacket, finding smooth, soft skin. Andrea moaned and pushed her hips against Miranda's thigh.

"Fire," Andrea murmured. "So hot."

"Good." Somewhere in the back of her mind, Miranda remembered how cold Andrea had been only moments ago. "You feel very good."

"Touch me. More. Touch me more."

"You are certain?"

"I'm certain." Andrea looked down at Miranda with wild eyes. Her emotions were clearly rampaging. Miranda's arousal was at fever pitch, and still she knew she had to be careful.

"I need you, Miranda." Andrea trembled as she nuzzled Miranda's neck. "You smell so good, and you're so warm, and I love how you feel. I have to…I have to…"

"Shhh. Wait. Just wait."

"I c-can't. I'm burning up. I can't…"

"You're hyperventilating, darling. You have to calm down."

"I _can't_!" Andrea's cry was that of a wounded animal. "If I slow down, if I don't burn with you, I'm afraid I'll never have this chance…never dare to. Ever."

"Shhh. Listen. Listen, Andrea." Miranda knew if she screwed this up, if she hurt Andrea now, it could be irreversible. "I'll do anything you want. Whatever you want." She held Andrea close with one hand and cupped her cheek with the other. "Do you understand? Anything you want is fine. Not just tonight."

Andrea's harsh breathing began to slow down. "You sure?"

"Yes. When am I not sure?"

"T-true." Andrea nodded.

"So, relax and consider what you want. Not from a panicky point of view." Miranda wanted Andrea to understand and the only way for her to do that was to take one step away from the anxiety that simmered under her skin.

Andrea pressed her face against the neckline in Miranda's nightgown. She breathed slowly and her body relaxed marginally. "Anything?"

"Anything."

Andrea pulled herself up on her elbow, but winced and shifted some. "Miranda, what I want more than anything right now, is to make you, and watch you, come."

Miranda lost what was left of oxygen in her lungs. As always, just when she thought she had Andrea pegged, or that she controlled their situation, Andrea did or said something that threw Miranda into a tailspin.

"You—oh, my." Knowing she was beetroot red by now, Miranda also knew this was a test, even if Andrea didn't see it that way. It would probably not be hard since Miranda only had to look at Andrea, or kiss and touch her, for her body to go crazy. She swallowed hard. "By all means."

"You're not going to ask why?"

"No." Miranda looked seriously at Andrea. "I did say 'anything'."

Andrea pushed up Miranda's silk top. "I can't use my hands too much," she said apologetically. Miranda was just about to suggest they postpone this until Andrea was ready, but then she felt full lips close around her left nipple. Diamond hard, it was surrounded by the hot wetness of Andrea's mouth, now so familiar to Miranda. Stopping herself from burying her fingers in Andrea's hair, mindful of her sore scalp. Miranda moaned and arched, unable to stop the basic need from asserting themselves. Andrea moved over to the other nipple, licked it lazily and then bit down. She chewed on it, using her molars, and Miranda found it impossible, and quite ridiculous of an idea, to try and be quiet.

"Mm. You taste so good." Andrea kissed a trail down along Miranda's stomach.

Miranda jerked. Surely Andrea wasn't going to…? But when Andrea pulled down the silk boxers, Miranda had to surmise that Andrea indeed was.

"Open your legs for me? Please?" Andrea moved into position, gazing up at Miranda. "Tell me if I do this wrong. Or if you don't like it, for any reason."

"Oh…don't…don't stop." Miranda was not about to say anything to stop Andrea. She was so close, had been ever since Andrea came in while she had her bubble bath. As soon as Andrea's hungry, soulful eyes devoured her, she had wanted her touch.

Andrea seemed to realize that she wasn't the only one in need. She licked along Miranda's damp curls. "You have to help me. Reach down," Andrea said. "Spread yourself for me."

Flustered, Miranda did as Andrea asked. The second Andrea's hot, agile tongue touched her clitoris and massaged it insistently; Miranda felt the beginning of a monumental orgasm approach. "Yes, oh yes." She rocked her hips a little, but the caresses were so perfect, so right, so she didn't have to do anything. Somewhere in the back of her head, Miranda remembered how she ended up here at Andrea's mercy. "I'm close, darling." She gasped for air. "You said…"

Andrea looked up at Miranda who in turn gazed down at the surreal sight of this beautiful young woman between her legs. _She has no idea what she's doing to me_.

Letting go with her mouth, Andrea pressed the pad of her thumb against Miranda's clit, pushing it out of its hood. Then, the lightest of touches, once, twice. Andrea's fingertips began circling the edges of her entrance and this was all it took. Surprised, stunned, Miranda stared up at Andrea, and then she had to close her eyes when the orgasm tore through her entire system. She had to use both hands to cling to the sheets, writhing, coming, drenching Andrea's fingers.

When Miranda finally could open her eyes, she saw such wonder in Andrea's she knew she had fulfilled her wish.

"So beautiful. What an amazing gift." Andrea carefully pulled her fingers free and raised them to her lips. "Mm. So good."

Miranda sobbed, but it wasn't an unhappy sound. She held out her arms and Andrea maneuvered into them with a purring sound.

"Thank you." Andrea kissed Miranda gently. "Thank you, thank you."

"I think I should be thanking you." Miranda knew she was blushing.

"No. Well, okay. If you must." The broad, glowing smile was back.

"I do. Thank you." Miranda returned the kiss. "What about you, darling?"

"I'm too sore. When I heal up, though…heaven help you, Miranda."

Chuckling quietly, Miranda knew the day, or night, couldn't come fast enough. Covering them with the duvet, Miranda didn't bother putting her discarded boxers back on. So much was going to happen tomorrow, but right now it was just the two of them. Never having been this close, emotionally, to anyone, Miranda didn't want to move away even for a second. The mere fact that Andrea was already headlong into a deep sleep in her arms only proved Miranda right.

##########

**Continued in part 10/?**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 10

##########

Andy carefully turned the page of a vintage issue of Runway magazine. She had asked Miranda if she kept any of her early issues from when she was new as an editor-in-chief and to her surprise, Miranda fetched three issues from the first year she was at the helm. One in particular was interesting, since it was the September issue with Paris fashion week as the main attraction. These were the issues that had place Miranda Priestly on the fashion map for ever. Innovative, with her clear sense of fashion and of direction for her magazine, she had turned a downward sales curve from disastrous to successful. The layout changed in a way that catered to all ages, and if Andy hadn't been so in awe of and impressed by Miranda's skill already, she would've experience that revelation now.

She heard movements in the foyer, and closed the last issue. Her heart pounded nervously even if Andy knew it was the girls coming home from their father's.

"Mom? Mom. I saw you on TV, with all the policemen, and Nigel too. Is it true that Andy's here, staying with us?"

"Caroline Priestly, how about a proper hello before you fire away at me like that? And where's your sister?"

"Getting our bags out of the car. Dad's leaving right away. He's not happy about the paparazzi."

"Neither are we, Caroline. Here's your sister now." Miranda walked to the door. "You all right, Bobbsey?"

"Yeah, Mom. If only Caro would help with our bags, I'd be even better. You okay, Mom?"

"Just fine, Bobbsey."

"Where's Andy?"

"In the den. You can see her once you've hung up your jackets and washed your hands."

The two girls murmured and shuffled around out of sight of Andy, but eventually they barreled into the den, stopping just in front of her. "Hi." Cassidy spoke first, or so Andy assumed. She hadn't seen the girls up close and personal in months after all.

"Hello Cassidy. Caroline." Andy smiled. "You look very chic."

"Come with the territory," Cassidy said, shrugging. "And you're bandaged. Does it hurt?"

"No, not so much now. I'm still worried about the little girl that's missing." Andy didn't know if Miranda wanted her to pretend everything was okay in front of the twins, but since she hadn't specified this, Andy figured it was all right.

"Yeah, we read about her," Caroline said. "They're still looking for her, I think."

"Yes, they are." Andy sighed, thinking of the talk they'd had over the phone with Lt. Bradley. Beth was still missing without any viable leads. "I'm glad you're back. Your mom's missed you."

"Dad took us to a show together with his new girlfriend." Caroline sighed. "She's trying too hard when she dresses. I think she's trying to outshine mom."

"I don't think that's possible," Andy said. "Your mom is unique."

Cassidy blinked and then tilted her head, which reminded Andy of how Miranda would do that when giving her a once over in the mornings at Runway.

"You like our mom, don't you?"

Andy wasn't sure if this was a mere question or an accusation. "I sure do. She's been great to me, especially after this…" She waved her hand. "This mess."

"So she likes you back then."

Was that a question too? Or? Andy's head spun and she gripped the armrest of the couch.

"Mom!" Cassidy called out, her voice suddenly sounding shrill. "Andy's all pale and looking weird."

"What are you shouting about, child?" Miranda strode into the den. "Do not call Andrea 'weird', it's not—Andrea?"

Gasping for air now, Andy saw Miranda as a greyish, washed out image that wobbled. "Think I'm gonna…feel faint…" She slumped sideways and heard Miranda call her name from a distance. Gentle hands laid her down on the couch and the familiar scent that was Miranda's engulfed her. One pair of hands stroked her bangs from her forehead and another set of hands, much smaller, patted her legs.

"Is Andy okay, Mom?" one of the twins whispered, sounding very afraid. "She was talking to us and then—then…"

"She'll be fine, Bobbsey. Andrea's been through quite the ordeal and she's still not back to her old self. Truthfully, I'm very tired as well, which I didn't expect. I'm very glad to see you. I've missed you, but I needed to care for Andrea. She lives alone."

Andy realized that she was on the couch with her head on Miranda's lap. Somewhere around her feet one of the girls sat. "I'm fine," Andy said, her voice raspy. "I'm sorry that I scared you."

"You got totally white," the girl at her feet said. "Freaky."

"Cassidy." Miranda clearly didn't like Cassidy's expression, but Andy opened her eyes, glad to see that the colors were back. Looking up, she saw Miranda regard her with a frown. '

"Really. I'm okay. Just felt a bit faint. Maybe a blood pressure drop or something?" She moved as if to sit up, but Miranda pressed gently at her shoulders.

"Just lie still for a moment. Sandy is preparing dinner. You might as well rest until she calls us."

"But…you were on your computer, working?" Andy said, glancing at the girls whose expression of surprise she guessed mirrored her own.

"I'm done for today."

"You're done? Now?" Caroline made a whole production of checking the time on her cell phone. "Wow."

"Oh, please. I thought it would be good to get my work out of the way as we're expecting guests tonight."

Andy felt her smile evaporate on a nano-second. Her parents. Mom and Dad Sachs. Dad the loving control freak and mom the perpetual peace keeper in the Sachs household. Without thinking, Andy groaned and turned her head sideways to hide her face against Miranda's stomach. She heard the girls gasp again, but the thought of sparring with her dad had never seemed less appealing.

"Why don't the two of your go say hello to Sandy and help her with the last part of whatever she's cooking. You know she loves having you home too."

"Sure, Mom." The girls dashed into the kitchen from where you could still look into the den.

"Shhh. You're all right." Miranda pressed gently at the back of Andy's neck. "Just relax."

"I didn't mean to crumble in front of the girls." Andy still expected Miranda to show her disappointment.

"They understand and the more we talk to them, the less apprehensive they will be. You see?" Miranda simply held Andy in her arms with the most tender of embraces. Andy pressed her face against Miranda and inhaled deeply. Something about Miranda's scent, the way her heart beat steadily against Andy's ear, and even the other ever so human faint growl, showing that Miranda was getting hungry, made Andy feel so safe.

############

"A cab is pulling up," Caroline reported from the window.

"Come away from there. Stay with Andrea and I'll get the door." Glancing at Andrea, Miranda saw her swallow hard. "I take it you warned them about the press?"

"Yes. Not sure they listened though. Mom sounded a bit stressed."

The doorbell rang. Miranda went to open and wasn't surprised when Richard Sachs greeted her with a less than pleased, "Is this how you do things in New York? Set the press hounds on visitors?"

"I'm delighted to hear you talk about your daughter's chosen profession with such pride." Miranda stepped aside. "Please come in." As the Sachs' came in from the cold rain, Miranda shifted her gaze to Virginia. "Welcome to my home, Virginia," she said. Andrea's mother was pale and looked like she had a headache. Curious why she would guess at something like that without knowing the woman, Miranda realized that she knew because Virginia looked very much like her daughter. "Let me get your coats. Andrea is eager to meet you." She made it clear that she meant only Virginia, but Richard didn't seem to notice. He threw his coat over the railing to the stairs.

"Where is she?"

"Over there, in the living room. My daughters are with her." Miranda motioned for them to follow her after hanging Virginia's coat. If Richard wanted a damp, wrinkled coat, fine.

"Mom." Andrea's tears rose. "Oh, Mom."

The twins shifted to allow Virginia to sit next to Andrea, but they hovered next to her, clearly not about to leave. Miranda knew she had to let Andrea have a few moments along with her parents, even if it nearly killed her. "Girls, let's go get the food ready. I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Sachs are hungry after their flights." The twins went reluctantly with Miranda to the kitchen.

"Why did Andy's dad look so mad? Is he mad at _her_?" Caroline sounded shocked at such a possibility.

"No. No, I think he's made at the situation." _I hope._ Miranda wondered how she would be able to hold it together, and control her girls, if Richard became a problem.

"Yeah, but, how's she supposed to know that if he just stands there looking like this." Cassidy turned her freckled little face into a scowl that was rather impressive. "It's not fair."

"We all react differently, Bobbsey." Miranda clenched her teeth so hard she could feel her jaws protest. She took the food out of the oven, where the casserole had been kept warm since Sandy left. She asked the girls to tell the visitors that dinner was ready, while carrying the large pot to the kitchen table. Informal eating, family style, Andrea had insisted, would be much more comfortable for her parents who didn't like when 'stuff was posh'.

Miranda had just put the pot down on the table when Caroline came running back. "Mom!" She yanked at Miranda's arm, something Miranda couldn't remember any of her girls doing since they were toddlers. "You've got to come. Andy's dad is so mean and Andy's crying."

Andy never thought she'd see the Dragon actually breathe fire. At first her dad seemed subdued and kissed her cheek. Her mom was teary-eyed, but so happy to see Andy, she kept smiling too.

"So good to see for myself that you're all right," Ginny said.

"All right?" Richard hissed. "You call that all right?" He waved at the bandages on his daughter's neck and the multiple bruises. "This is what happens when you let a young girl live in this hellhole of a city."

"Dad?" Andy's mouth fell open. "What are you talking about?"

"You were a young, naïve girl who dreamed of the big city, and your mother, like a fool, helped you nourish that dream. This proves me right. Again."

"What's he talking about, Mom?" Andy turned to her mother. The churning in her stomach was back.

"Your father has always worried a lot for you, for something bad happening," Ginny said. "You know, it's every parent's nightmare."

"Yes, but what do you mean by 'again'?" Andy asked, locking eyes with her dad.

"You drove Nate away somehow, and he was the only reason I went along with this foolish setup in the first place."

"You're saying that you don't think I can't take care of myself?" Andy raised her voice. "You never did have faith in me, did you? You thought if I stay in Cincinnati, work for you, you can keep an eye on me and make sure I do as you say, when you say it." Her hands in painfully tight fists, Andy stood. She made herself not lose her balance as she challenged her father. "Not so much as a 'way to go, Andy, to help rescue some of the kids," or "glad you've got friends who look out for you when you need them—"

"Friends?" Richard huffed. "That Priestly woman? She's no friend. She's more likely trying to reel you in to work for her at that rag of hers."

"Reel me in?" Andy was so angry now, she had to pinch her thighs through the soft sweat pants to keep her tears from falling. "If anyone's trying to reel me in, it's you."

"Andy, don't, it'll just make everything worse if you fight him." Ginny sighed.

"Worse? For whom? You or me?" Andy turned back to Richard. "You've tried to dictate my life ever since I entered puberty. When I wasn't your adoring little girl anymore, but a person with a mind of my own, my own ideas and dreams, you decided that you needed to fight me every step of the way. You used mom as a pawn, used her to get your way, because you knew, you _knew_, that I couldn't say no to her, I didn't want her to get hurt."

"A parent has to—"

"—let go. A parent has to let their kids go when they're adults. I may make mistakes, but they're my mistakes to make. By being an adult and out on my own, making a living on my own, I have earned the right to make my own fucking mistakes."

"That's another thing you never did before New York," Richard hissed. "Cursing up a storm like that shows how you've gone from a lovely young girl, to a—a—"

"Careful, Dad," Andy whispered, "you can't take back everything you say. If you call me something horrible, you can't undo it."

"You talk and sound like a ho."

Unable to stop them, Andy's tears began to stream down her face.

"Richard!" Ginny paled. "How—how can you—you can't talk to her like that. You can't. I won't let you."

"No, you can't, Mr. Sachs." A very young voice broke into the stunned silence after Ginny stopped talking. "Caro. Get mom."

Miranda strode into the room with such strides, her four inch pumps sounded like a machine-gun spraying bullets. She didn't look at any of her parents, but walked over to Andy and her daughter, wrapping her arms around their shoulders. "Leave my house," Miranda growled at Richard."

"Look her now—"

"No. You will leave my house this instant. I can't tell you to not see Andrea later, that's not for me to say, but this is my house, you're here only because I allowed it. Clearly a huge mistake on my part, which I hope your daughter will forgive me for." She looked down at the pale Virginia who was still sitting, looking shell shocked, on the couch. "You are welcome to stay. If you like, we can put you up in one of the guestrooms."

"If I'm not staying, she's not either." Richard pointed at Ginny.

"Dad. Just go. The hotel's not far from here." Andy wiped her cheeks. "You're upsetting everybody, and you're scaring the girls."

Her father looked he was thinking 'what girls' and then he looked at the two defiantly glowering twins who now stood on either side of her and Miranda. "They don't look very scared," he sneered. "They're hard as flint. Like her."

"Out."

"Go, Dad. Let me call you a cab. Miranda won't hesitate to call the police if you don't leave. Don't do that to Mom."

Richard was crimson from anger, and Andy wondered, not for the first time, if he was about to use violence. He'd never hit Andy or her sister, nor her mother as far as she knew, but he'd become so volatile the last few years, he just didn't feel _safe_.

Andy called a cab for her father, her fingers trembling as she browsed her phone. Using the Priestly name made for a quick response. Richard muttered under his breath and left the room. A few moments later, they heard him slam the door and then yell at the press as he made his way to the curb.

"God. They're going to quote him. He's too angry to realize." Andy wiped at her cheeks again. "I'm so, so sorry, Miranda. This was a bad idea."

"Don't even try to apologize for that—for your father." Miranda cupped the chin of each of her girls. "You all right?"

"Yeah, mom. We're not scared, like he said." Caroline folded her arms over her chest.

Andy didn't believe them. No grownup ever yelled in this house. To hear a man bellow at the top of his lungs and sounding completely unreasonable had to be frightening.

"I was." Ginny stood. "For the first time in thirty years, I was afraid." She shook her head. "Caroline and Cassidy? Miranda? I apologize for Richard. Had I known he was this…this unstable, I would've simply jumped on that plane alone." She turned to Andy and hugged her daughter. "God, sweetheart, first you survive such a horrible thing—and then your father…" She broke into tears and this, strangely enough, calmed Andy down significantly. Being the strong one for her mother was the right course of action. She looked into Miranda's eyes over Ginny's shoulder and the approval visible on her face reinforced Andy's resolve.

"What is that sound?" Ginny suddenly asked and lifted her head. "A dog? You have a dog?" A faint whimper came from another room.

"That's Patricia, our St. Bernard." Cassidy turned to her mother. "She needs to go outside, I think."

"Let her use her corner in the back. We can't take her passed the crowd out front."

The girls fetched the enormous dog and brought her out through the backdoor in the kitchen. Miranda gestured to where the girls disappeared. "Why don't we take our seats in the meantime? What can I get you to drink, Virginia?"

"Ginny, please. I'd love some red wine."

"I have a bottle of Fay Cabernet Sauvignon breathing." Miranda poured herself and Ginny half a glass of wine each. "None for you." She smiled at Andy. "Not as long as you're on painkillers."

"Aw, darn it. I could sure use a little buzz." Andy made a face, trying to make Ginny smile.

"Too much buzz will let Miranda see a side of you I'm sure will shock the living daylights out of her." Ginny did smile after sipping her wine. "Oh, is an amazing wine, Miranda."

"Glad you approve." Miranda tilted her head. "Shock me, Andrea? How, pray tell, would you shock me?" She didn't spell it out, of course, but her eyes said 'more than you already did last night'.

"I've been known to sing bawdy drinking songs of the very, _very_ naughty kind when I have mix things. Like that time when Mom gave me eggnog and forgot that I'd had Dayquil several times that day. It was interesting to see the reaction from all my aunts and uncles. It was a Christmas party and I was home from college."

Ginny snorted and placed her glass carefully by her plate. "Aunt Moira says it was the best part of the evening, so that wasn't so bad. Your Uncle Barry was not happy though. Then again, he rarely is." She shrugged and was just about to say something more when a door slammed to their left.

"Mom!" A pale Caroline came running up to them. "Patricia, she—she wouldn't stop. She just kept digging and scratching, and we yelled at her for that, for making scratch marks on the door. She whimpered and almost howled, Mom!"

"What are you talking about? Where are Cassidy and the dog?" Standing up, Miranda looked out the window.

"You got to come, Mom and Andy and her mom too. We found her! Or—Patricia did!"

"Who? What?" Miranda looked at Andy as if she would know.

Andy looked at Caroline, saw the terror mixed with excitement. "Beth."

"Yes!" Caroline yanked at her mother's hand. "That's what I'm trying to say. Patricia found Beth in our shed. You got to hurry because she won't wake up."

##########

**To be continued in part 11/?**

##########


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 11

##########

Andy snatched her cell phone from the kitchen counter before she followed Miranda and Caroline into the garden. Patricia was whimpering at the far end of the small backyard. Andy had only been on the patio outside the kitchen very briefly since the weather was so unforgiving, but now she noticed the small wooden shed in the back against the wall.

Miranda pushed the door open just as Andy and her mother caught up with her.

"Oh, my God." Miranda went into the small structure.

Andy was already dialing 911. "Send an ambulance to the Priestly residence," she barked into the phone and gave the address. "We've found an unconscious child, probably suffering from hypothermia. She may have been subjected to the elements for two full days."

"Is the child breathing? Have you checked for a pulse?" the 911 operator asked.

"We're doing that now." Andy leaned over Miranda who was carefully turning Beth, because it really was Beth, and opening her down jacket. "Pulse and breathing, Miranda?" Andy's own heart was hammering madly and she felt her mother hold on to her with one arm. Glancing at her, she saw Ginny had the other arm around Caroline. Cassidy knelt next to her mother, stroking back Beth's long, black hair.

"She's breathing, but shallow. Pulse is strong, but rapid." Miranda spoke curtly. "They need to hurry."

"Did you get that? Pulse okay, breathing shallow. Can we move her?"

"Has she been subjected to neck or back trauma?"

"I—I don't think so."

"Then get her indoors somewhere warm and wrap her in blankets. The EMTs are on their way."

"All right." Andy turned to her mother. "Help Miranda carry her back to the house. We need to get her warm."

Ginny and Miranda lifted the girl and with the twins holding the door open, they made their way through the faintly lit backyard back to the house. Inside, Andy placed Patricia on her mattress in the corner in the kitchen, ordered the well-trained dog to stay, and then followed the others into the den. She still had the operator on her cell and now she raised it to her ear again. "We need to get the police over here are well. This child is the missing Beth Donovan."

There was a brief silence and then the operator came back, "I'm dispatching a unit."

"Can you get word to Lt. Bradley and Detective Liz Grayson?"

"I'll find them." The woman sounded so calm and confident, Andy relaxed marginally as she knelt next to the couch where Miranda was busy wrapping Beth in a cashmere throw.

"Beth?" Andy caressed the girl's cheek. "Beth, it's Andy. You're safe now. Can you wake up?"

"What on earth was she doing in our backyard?" Miranda murmured and rubbed Beth's hands. "She's so cold."

"Maybe she was looking for Andy?" Cassidy whispered, her eyes huge.

"Then why didn't she just ring the doorbell?" Caroline whispered back.

"We'll find out sooner or later. In the meantime, girls, you know where we keep the hot water bottles. Fill one up with hot water from the tap, please."

The twins hurried up the stairs.

"She's so pale. I wonder if she's had anything to eat or drink." Ginny took off Beth's sneakers and rubbed her feet. "Her poor parents."

"We haven't let Patricia out back since Andy came home with me," Miranda said. "The dog-walker has been here. If we had, we might have discovered the girl sooner." She pursed her lips, a sure sign of her discontent. Andy knew it was directed at Miranda herself this time. Miranda hated not being in full control of things around her. The thought of having a freezing, starving child in her backyard without knowing it was tearing at her.

The twins came running down the stairs with the hot water bottle wrapped in a linen towel. "Here, Mom."

"Good." Miranda felt the outside of the towel and nodded. Tucking it in under Beth's jacket, she placed it on the child's chest.

Sirens blared in the distance and got closer.

"I'll get the door," Andy said.

"No, no. Stay here. I don't want you falling on your face." Ginny stood and headed for the foyer. She heard her gasp as she opened the door. The entire foyer lit up with a barrage of camera flashes.

"Yikes. Poor mom." Andy shook her head. "She'll be blinded for hours." Raising the cell phone to her ear again, she told the operator the paramedics had arrived, thanked her and then hung up.

A man and a woman came into the living room, carrying a stretcher. "Hello." The man briefly introduced himself and the woman, and then took over Beth's care. "Have you seen any improvement since you got her inside? Operator said she was found in the backyard?"

"She's not as pale, and her breathing isn't as shallow," Miranda said and wrapper her arms around her twins. "We don't know how long she's been out there, but she's been missing for about forty-eight hours, I believe."

"Yes, we learned of her identity."

The doorbell rang just as the male EMT spoke. Miranda motioned for the girls to go to Andy as she went to open.

Andy couldn't take her eyes off Beth. The little girl hadn't moved since they found her and even if she seemed physically unharmed, something must be very wrong for her to be so deeply unconscious. She pulled the twins closer and looked over to make sure her mother was all right. Ginny stood to the side, her hands clasped, and tears in her eyes. "Mom?"

"I'm okay. Just…seeing this girl like this, it made your ordeal, and your injuries…all the more real. Your father should've been here to witness this. He needs a wakeup call, but I'm not sure I'll ever get through to him."

"We'll deal with dad in the morning." Andy tried to sound reassuring, but her father's words still stung so badly she couldn't help but flinch. As if Caroline sensed it, her arms went around Andy's waist.

"Beth will be all right, won't she, Andy?" Caroline asked. "We found her in time, didn't we?"

"She's already doing better," the female EMT said, smiling back at Caroline and Cassidy. "Her color is improving and her vital signs are too."

"Her lips were kind of blue," Cassidy said. "She was lying so still and all curled up. I couldn't tell what it was first and then…then I saw it was a girl and I knew who it was, even before I saw her face."

"Good job, girls," Lt. Bradley and Liz entered the den with Miranda. "I hear you and your dog over there are the ones to thank for finding Beth." He walked over to the couch and Andy saw the immense relief on his face as he bent over to look at the girl. "That's her, all right." He flipped up a phone, dialing. "Mr. Donovan, this is Lt. Bradley, NYPD. We found your daughter Beth alive. She's unconscious and very cold so we're taking her to…?" He glanced at the EMTs.

"Presby." The male paramedic said, not even looking up as they shifted Beth to the stretcher.

"The Presbyterian. If you and your wife meet us there? Excellent. Now, listen to me. Don't drive. Take a cab. We don't want another disaster, all right? Good. See you there."

"I want to go with her," Andy said and stood. "I'll just get my things."

"I've already called Roy." Miranda stood. "I'll join you, if…" She glanced at Ginny. "If you wouldn't mind staying with my daughters?"

"I wouldn't mind at all."

"But mom? We want to—" The twins spoke in unison.

"No. Not today. I'm sure Beth will want to see you once she feels better, but the ER won't let you in to see her tonight. You can help show Virginia the third floor guestroom. I rely on you two to be good hostesses in my absence."

"All right, Mom." Caroline muttered.

"Well I for one want to hug her before she leaves." Cassidy strode over the stretcher and knelt next to it. Very gently she placed her cheek to Beth's. Caroline repeated it from the other side and Andy felt tears prickle behind her eyelids. These girls, the Priestly twins that some morons at Runway called the Devil's spawn. They could choke on their callous words, and would too, if they saw the care and tenderness the twins showed the unconscious girl.

"We're good to go," the female EMT said. "She's stable now, but let's not push our luck." They carried the stretcher outside, where two more squad cars had shown up. Andy thought maybe Bradley and Liz had called them in to keep the press at bay.

"Roy's ETA is in five minutes. Why don't you change, Andrea? I'll get our things."

"Okay." Andy walked upstairs, still moving very slowly because of the pain in her midsection.

"Let me help you, sweetheart." Ginny was suddenly at Andy's side. "I haven't had a moment alone with you."

"I'm sorry, Mom. Didn't count on tonight's events. You sure you're okay to stay here with Caroline and Cassidy?"

"I am. In fact, I think they're great kids, which surprises me just as much as how kind Miranda is to you. I only have your early reports of her to go by and you weren't too happy with Miranda when she was your boss. Not the first months."

"True. She intimidated me, and I hated that. Then I wanted to show her I could do anything. I learned a lot."

"And, oh my, is this one of the guestrooms?" Ginny looked around Miranda's bedroom, and Andy felt her cheeks warm almost as much as Miranda's favorite latte.

"Uhm, no. It's Miranda's room. I have my things in here. In fact, I haven't had the chance to get any of my own clothes over here, so Miranda let me choose some of her that fit me."

"So, where do you sleep? Please don't tell me you have to go up one more flight of stairs. I saw how hard that was for you just now." Ginny frowned, going all mama-bear like she used to do when anybody ever treated Andy badly in her presence.

##########

"No, Virginia, she doesn't. Andrea sleeps in here with me." Miranda walked into the bedroom and headed for the ensuite. "I'm responsible for her since she's staying in my house. She has been quite zoned out on painkillers, especially the first 36 hours. I needed to have her with me to make sure she was breathing properly and doing all right. Andrea has also been plagued by nightmares, which I'm sure you wouldn't want her to suffer through alone?"

"You've been great to Andy, Miranda." Virginia sighed and pressed her fingertips against her left temple.

"Mom? You okay?" Andrea frowned.

"Just a tension headache, Andy. I'll grab a Tylenol from my luggage later." She turned to face Miranda. "I'm sorry if I sounded inquisitive. I have been so worried."

"A natural trait for a parent." Miranda felt herself soften. "And just so you are aware of how much I value Andrea, I'm not in the habit of letting complete strangers look after my children. You're Andrea's mother, and that, in my book, makes you an exceptional person. You've raised one of the most amazing young women I've ever met. I'm sure I could not leave my children in more capable hands." Miranda heard Andrea give a muted gasp. "Need assistance in picking something out, darling?"

Virginia's eyes grew wide and Miranda wanted to swallow the last word. How was it that she had become so comfortable with calling Andrea 'darling' that she didn't even notice doing it half the time? If she kept it up, her feelings for the young woman would become common knowledge very soon.

"Eh…I'll be fine. I'll just grab some jeans and a nice shirt. Mom can help me." Andrea's eyes asked Miranda to understand why she wanted her mother's help right now.

"Good. I'll be ready in five minutes." Miranda walked into the bathroom and quickly freshened up. There was no way of telling how long they'd be at the hospital, so taking the extra minutes to get ready was a good thing.

When Miranda re-entered the bedroom, she heard Virginia help Andrea downstairs. She followed them and put on her favorite faux fur coat. She made sure Andrea wore one of her warm down jackets as Andrea's own jacket was damaged beyond repair.

"Ready?" Miranda gave Andrea a once over. "Good." She turned to the den where the girls sat watching the flat-screen TV. "Girls. We're off."

"Call us as soon as you know how she's doing, please, Mom?" Cassidy said and walked toward them. "Caro and I will up for another couple of hours. That should be enough, right?"

"Probably, Bobbsey. Take care of Virginia now. She never did get to eat dinner, nor did you. Andrea and I will pick up something at the hospital."

"Oh, yay. Cafeteria food and vending machines." Andrea crinkled her nose. "And you get Sandy's casserole. So unfair."

Miranda saw her girls smiled a little wider. The way Andrea connected with the twins was quite remarkable. Even Andrea's description of Beth had made Miranda's girls' more understanding and susceptible when it came to the girl they really didn't know.

"That's life, Andrea. Let's go." Miranda took a deep breath and opened the door. The reporters and news crews were still there, which she'd expected, but so were the two squad cars and the four policemen and women kept them at a much better distance. Roy was idling by the curb and waited by the door. He and Miranda assisted Andrea as she maneuvered carefully into the backseat. Miranda followed and soon they were pulling out into traffic.

"You called me darling again." Andrea spoke quietly.

"Yes." Miranda's stomach clenched. Was Andrea resenting how she'd slipped?

"My mom noticed." Andrea's fingers following a seam on her jacket back and forth repeatedly; she didn't raise her eyes.

"Are you upset?" Miranda unbuckled her seatbelt and slid closer.

"No. Are you?" Now Andrea bestowed a quick glance at Miranda. "I mean, I thought you might be embarrassed that…that my mom…I mean, she's very intuitive. I think she would guess that you don't sprinkle 'darlings' around you like a Hollywood producer."

Miranda shuddered at the thought. Hollywood. Cute. "I resent the analogy, but I'm also mainly concerned with how you feel about my slip-of-the-tongue."

"Oh, _God_, Miranda," Andrea hissed. "You can't say stuff like that around me in public."

"Sss-stuff?" Miranda raised her eyebrow. "What 'stuff' are you referring to?"

"Slip-of-the-tongue," Andrea whispered agitatedly. "Surely you know by now where I want your tongue to slip?"

Miranda coughed, choking as images of erotic endeavors floated to the surface of her mind. "God."

"Exactly." Andrea turned her gaze forward. "Cruel woman."

"I am not. I'm actually well known for my benevolent nature."

"As if." Andrea's lips spread into a smile. "I want names."

"Of whom?"

"Of the ones who claim your benevolence is well known."

"Let's see. I'm making quite the impression on your mother, I believe. Lt. Bradley seems to have calmed down around me. The jury is still out on Liz Grayson, I think."

Andrea snorted. "You're so funny. Now that's something I wish more people knew."

"Why? Are you going to volunteer my name to an 'open microphone' performance at our local standup comedy bar?"

"East End has a standup comedy bar?" Andrea held her side, laughing, a contagious, gurgling sound. "Actually, I think you'd be a big hit."

"Undeniably." Miranda fought an undignified giggle. "Until this happens, we need to stay focused on the matter at hand."

"One more block, Ms. Priestly," Roy informed them.

"Let us off at the Emergency Room entrance, as close as it's humanly possible," Mirada said. "We'll call you when we need you."

"Yes, Ms. Priestly. Andy."

They stepped out of the car and walked behind most of the reporters who clearly were waiting for someone to deliver a statement or issue a press conference. Miranda and Andrea reached the waiting room at the ER where they ran into the next challenge. A triage nurse refused to let go further than the waiting room and just as Miranda had had enough of this impertinent, self-righteous, self-appointed—"

"Miranda. Look. There's Lt. Bradley." Andrea pointed discreetly at the man at the far end of the waiting area. "He'll make sure we're allowed in. I'll ask him."

Miranda hoped Andrea was right. In a way she wouldn't mind blowing off some pent up steam while addressing the minion who dared defy her in this manner. On the other hand, she was so tired, she was ready to occupy any of the chairs and merely drift off instantly.

Andrea returned to Miranda, limping slightly, which indicated her level of fatigue being elevated as well. "Bradley and Liz will take us in. Beth's already undergoing treatment and her parents are here."

"They must be so relieved." Miranda pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, a trick that usually helped when she needed to focus. She followed Andrea over to the Lt. Bradley and Detective Grayson who merely showed their badges and guided them to the right corridor.

As they approached, Miranda saw a man and a woman stand outside a room where a lot of staff was gathered. They were talking to a physician who looked up as they joined them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Donovan?" Bradley motioned to Andrea and Miranda. "This is Andrea Sachs and her friend Miranda Priestly."

"Andrea Sachs." The woman's eyes narrowed, which made Miranda cautiously ensure Andrea didn't stand too close to her.

"Is this _her_?" the woman snarled, pointing at Andrea.

Miranda tensed, taken aback at the woman's hostility.

"Inez," the man said, taking her by the arm. "This isn't the place." He tugged at Inez, but looked just as darkly at Andrea, who in turn seemed entirely dazed.

"We have not slept for more than two days, because _this…_this reporter saw a chance to get her hands on a story!" She tugged her arm free. "Don't touch me. This is the place. Beth is in there, unconscious. She nearly died, Leo." Beth's mother, Inez, was shaking; her fists so tight it looked like the skin on her knuckles might rupture.

Miranda took one step closer to an ashen-faced Andrea. "You're mistaken," she said calmly. "Andrea helped save your daughter and a young boy."

"You have no idea what really went down," Inez hissed, glaring with dark eyes at Andrea. "My daughter is in there fighting for her life, and if it hadn't been for _her_," she said with a growl, stabbing her finger at Andrea's chest and just barely missing it. "Beth would be home with us, safe and sound. If she—if something goes wrong and we lose her," she continued, her voice trembling, "I won't rest until your ass is in jail."

Miranda knew these were traumatized parents, but witnessing Andrea losing her color completely and swaying as she gave a muted whimper, brought out the dragon. "Mrs. Donovan, I realize that you're afraid. I will offer you once chance to reel your misplaced anger in, preferably followed by an apology to this young woman who risked her life to save Beth and Yamal." Miranda lowered her voice to an almost inaudible level. "And believe me when I say, you have one chance."

##########

**To be continued in part 12**

##########


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 12

##########

Andy couldn't breathe. The pure hatred in Inez Donovan's eyes made shadows creep closer in the busy corridor around them. She heard Miranda's voice as if behind a wall of water. Was she fainting again? Or was it a panic attack?

"Let's go somewhere else before Ms. Sachs falls down from sheer exhaustion," Liz Grayson said. "It won't help Beth if anyone goes for the jugular just outside her room." Together with Bradley she ushered the other four into a private waiting area. "Please, have a seat."

Andy sat and merely stared at Beth's mother. She looked haggard, her dark eyes piercing, and she seemed ready to launch at any given moment. Without any idea how to express what she was feeling, Andy gently cleared her voice. "Please, Mrs. Donovan, I'm not here as a reporter. Yes, I did initially go to the schoolyard because my boss sent me there to cover the incident. My photographer and I had no way of knowing what we'd witness once we arrived." Andy wiped at the tears that began to run down her cheeks. "What I found, which I don't think I'll ever forget, was your daughter. People say I was brave. Perhaps. That's nothing compared to your child. She wouldn't leave Yamal behind. She took my hand and pulled me with her to the swing set." Andy felt for Miranda's hand, relieved to find immediately, warm and firmly grasping hers. She shivered and this made Miranda slide closer on the small couch, wrapping an arm around her back.

"You can never imagine how much blood had oozed into the sand underneath Yamal. I was so sure he would die right then and there. I didn't want Beth to see that. I begged her to go for help, to run over to the police, but she refused. She wouldn't leave Yamal, or me. I'm sure you must know how stubborn, and how brave, your daughter is? You are raising such an amazing child. I don't know why she found her way to Miranda's shed, we have to ask her, but in her mind she must've had a compelling reason. I can't imagine Beth wanting to hurt or worry you on purpose." Sobbing now, Andy pressed her upper body against Miranda. "I really don't worry about what you think of me. This is the truth. I have people who care about me enough. What's important is that you don't hold this against your daughter. Don't be mad at her; don't put any blame on her. She's just a li-little g-girl and, oh God, she…she saw that madman put a knife against my neck, and—oh, Miranda, she…she stared at me, at him, with such anguish and remorse…"Andy whimpered and pressed her face against Miranda's neck. Miranda's arms wrapped firmly around her. "She must've thought he'd slash my throat right in front of her and Yamal. Beth…she's just a little g-girl. Little kids always assume the blame…" She sobbed, the sound muted against Miranda's warm skin.

"And she must have thought it was all her fault," Inez Donovan whispered coarsely. "She brought you to the boy and then that…that murderer took you at knifepoint right in front of her." She cried out, a sound so pained and full of anxiety, Andy flinched. "When we took her home, she sat by the television for hours, following all the reports no matter how we tried to stop her, telling her to go lie down. She wouldn't hear of it. Leo!" She tugged at her husband.

"Shh, darling. She's here and she'll be all right," Leo Donovan said. "Thanks to Ms. Sachs and—Ms. Priestly, was it?—she's going to come home." He said it like a prayer.

"Yes, she is." Miranda had been quiet until now. Speaking firmly, but not without sympathy in her voice, she held Andrea close. "Detective Grayson, can you find out how Beth's doing?"

"Certainly." Liz left, quickly wiping at her eyes before she exited to the corridor.

"I'm sorry." Inez hollow voice. "I really am. I'm not usually such a bitch."

"Don't think of it. Your last two days have been hellish." Andy saw some color return to Inez's cheeks. "Beth is your baby."

"In more ways than one. She's our youngest, and she's the one who's closest to her mother." Leo rubbed Inez's back. "They're both such caring, and yes, stubborn, girls."

"Can you forgive me for lashing out?" Inez dark eyes were like tear filled wells.

"Yes, of course," Andy said readily. Miranda's arms tightened around her.

"I take it your talk about bringing charges against Andrea was merely your anxiety expressing itself?" Miranda spoke sternly, clearly not about to give Inez too much leeway.

"Oh, God, did I say that?" Inez gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Damn, I clearly lost it completely. Ms. Sachs…Andrea?"

"Andy, please."

"Andy." Inez extended a trembling hand across the short distance between the couches. Andy took it carefully. "You are a very special person, I can tell. With integrity."

"And so are you." Andy smiled tremulously. "Let's focus on what's important here. Beth."

As on cue, Liz came in, smiling. "Good news. Beth's awake. You can see her."

Inez rose so fast she nearly toppled over. Leo supported her as she let go of Andy's hand. Smiling back at Andy and Miranda, Inez then left the room with her husband.

##########

Miranda could count the times she'd been seriously stunned in her life on the fingers of one hand. Three of those times had to do with Andrea. Listening to the remarkable young woman exposing her soul to the very people who'd torn into her with such viciousness only minutes earlier, Miranda had nearly shed tears in public. Andrea had spoken from the heart; her only intent was not to save herself, but to soothe the distraught mother of a hurt child.

Now, Andrea sat next to her, pale but composed and Miranda knew she had never love a grown person as much as she loved Andrea Sachs. This was not the place to tell her, but Miranda vowed to do so, soon.

"Let's go outside and see how Beth's really doing, shall we?" Miranda stood.

"Yeah, I want to know that she's truly okay. We promised to report to the girls." Andrea stood, and that was when Miranda saw how tense she was.

"Yes, we did. Come on."

Exiting the small room, Miranda could breathe easier. So many emotions in such small quarters thickened the air. With Andy's hand tucked in the crease of her arms, she began to walk toward the trauma room where Beth was.

When they had a few yards to go, Andrea's breath started to become labored.

"I—I can't." Andrea stopped. Where her pace had been pale, she was now flustered and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip. "I feel sick." Suddenly her legs gave out and she fell down on all four.

"Andrea!" Miranda threw herself onto the floor. "Darling, what's wrong?"

"Head hurts. N-nauseous. Oh, God, it hurts…"

"I need help here!" Miranda called out. "Help her!"

The sound of running feet, hands reaching down for Andrea and placing her on a gurney, more hands trying to help Miranda, which she fought—it all happened so fast.

##########

Caroline sat next to Andy's mom, putting a cold cloth on her forehead. "Like that?"

"Perfect, Caroline." Ginny smiled faintly. "It's not a bad attack, and I've taken my medication. Migraines can be bad though."

"I've had a headache a few times." Cassidy said from where she sat curled up on a bean bag next to the couch.

"Painful, huh?" Ginny said, patting Cassidy's foot.

"Yeah. Not as bad as migraines though, I don't think."

"Can I fetch you anything else?" Caroline looked worriedly at the woman who looked so much like Andy, only older. _She's mom's age, or so._

"No, I'm fine. Just sit down and relax. You can start a movie or something. I'll just lie here and enjoy your company." Ginny's smile was only part grimace.

"Wonder why they're not calling like they said." Cassidy sighed. "It's not like Andy to miss something like that. Mom forgets sometimes, or gets really busy, but not Andy. Remember, Caro, when she worked for mom? She was one of mom's best assistants. I even overheard mom telling Nigel that."

"Yeah, what if Beth's really hurt…or dead?" Caroline trembled. "What if we found her too late?"

"No, I don't think so." Ginny caressed Caroline's hair. "Her vital signs were already better. The girl looked strong. She will pull through." It was obvious it pained Ginny to speak.

"Yeah. We have to visualize a positive outcome like our therapist says. If you can think it, you can do it."

"Or as we say, if you can trick them, you can get them to do it." Cassidy giggled, but Caroline knew it was a slightly forced laugh. Her sister was as frantic on the inside as she was. She was pretty sure Andy's mom was worried too. Why else would the migraine suddenly hit? At least she wasn't throwing up all over the place like their friend Linda's mom sometimes did. Thank God. Yuck.

"Why's Andy's dad such jerk?" Cassidy asked.

Caroline almost berated her twin for her choice of words, but she really wanted to know too.

"Good question," Ginny murmured. "He's very protective of Andy. He has his reasons, but that doesn't make it right, with the way he talked to Andy."

"No, it wasn't. You don't get to talk to your kid that way just because you're her dad." Caroline frowned. "What reasons?"

"As I said, that's how he sees it, so nothing can convince him he's wrong. He loves her almost too much, I think." Ginny sighed. "Listen, we'll talk more of this when Andy and your mother come back. I'm sure they'll call any minute now."

"It's been over and hour," Cassidy muttered. "No matter what, something's happened."

##########

Miranda stood in the treatment room, her bag pressed to the wall. One hand on her hip, another pressed over her mouth, she felt as a resounding howl would escape if she lowered it. Andrea was surrounded by health care professionals in scrubs, sticking her, pulling off clothes, pressing stethoscopes to her chest, her neck, her back. They called out her name, over and over. It was deja vue from two days ago and Miranda wasn't sure she could take anymore.

Just then, when Miranda had begun to slide down the wall, Andrea opened her eyes.

"There you go. Good girl," the older nurse next to the gurney said, smiling broadly. "That's it. How are you feeling, Andrea?"

"Andy." Andrea whispered. "Call me Andy."

"All right. Andy it is." Checking the monitors, the woman's smile widened. "Vital signs improving. Very good."

"What happened?" Andrea asked and raised a trembling hand to her temple.

"You went down in the corridor. Scared the living daylights out of Ms. Priestly."

"M-Miranda?" Andrea looked around, even got up on her elbows.

"She's right of there," the nurse said and turned to point at Miranda. "Christ, she's about to go down too." The nurse moved very quickly for her size. Grabbing Miranda around her waist she made her sit on a chair next to Andrea. "God, woman, she's okay. See?" The nurse placed Miranda's hand on Andrea's. "Feel her?"

"Yes. Thank you." Miranda swallowed down the bile. She was so relieved to see Andrea looking back at her; she wasn't even upset at how the nurse touched her without permission. She checked Miranda's pulse and attached a blood pressure cuff around her arm. Miranda tried to remember when she'd taken her coat off, but couldn't.

"Has either of you eaten anything? Or had some water?" The nurse, her nametag suggested her name was Roxanne.

"Uhm. No. Never got around to it. Could be why I have a migraine. Damn, that was stupid." She moaned and rubbed her temple.

"And you, Ms. Priestly. Andy food in you?"

"No. As Andrea pointed out. No food. Too much drama." Not about to roll her eyes or she might actually pass out since she was still seriously dizzy, Miranda held on to Andrea's free hand. "How ridiculous. We're not much support for Beth Donovan, are we?"

"Mrs. Donovan poked her head in earlier and enquired about you. I told her you were a bit under the weather for now. She asked me to tell you Beth is awake and communicating."

##########

"Thank God." Andrea sighed as they were finally alone in the exam room. "You look pale."

Miranda whipped her head around and glared at Andy. "You _scared_ me," she hissed. "Stop doing that. Can't you understand what this does to me?"

"Wh-what?" Andy saw the fire in Miranda's eyes.

"You…you…"

Miranda squeezed her hand so hard; Andy had to bite her tongue not to whimper. Miranda stuttering was unheard of. "Sorry?"

"You're sorry." Pulling back her upper lip, Miranda snarled. "You scare me; make me think I'm losing you again, after all. And you're _sorry._ I hate this. I hate that you have the power over me to do this."

"Miranda." Andy ached at the agony so clearly visible on Miranda's face and in her voice. When a person who always was in perfect control let go, this thunder was inevitable. Something had to give. "Please, Miranda. Don't. First of all, my head hurts really badly, and second, you look like you're going to faint as well. Please. Come here." She held out her other hand.

Miranda breathed hard through her nose, so much the dragon, Andy totally understood where the epithet came from. Whoever was on the receiving end on such rage or rage was bound to try and share it.

"Please." Andy slid her free hand around Miranda's neck and pulled her in. _Show no fear_. Not quite sure why this was so important, Andy kept going. If there ever was a point of no return, she felt this was it. Typical that it had to take place in the ER of a hospital where they were surrounded by other people. "Miranda. I'm fine. You're fine. We're hungry and tired. God knows I'm exhausted, and you've been so wonderful to me, to the girls, to my mom, to Beth…and you were ready to steamroll Inez Donovan for attacking me."

"So?" Miranda's face was two inches from Andy's.

"So, you're fine. More than fine." Andy's voice sank to a whisper. "Very, very fine. When we get back home, I'll show you just how fine I think you are."

Miranda jerked and her expression changed. "Yes. Home," she said slowly. "I want to check on the girl and then go home." Her eyes were opaque once the fire calmed down. Clearly Miranda was still in damage control mode.

"We have to call the twins."

Someone rapped their fingers on the doorframe and then Roxanne came in with a tray of cheese sandwiches and two large glasses of juice. "Here. Once you drink and eat, you can go see the little girl. They've asked for you twice. Little Beth is especially worried that she might miss you."

"Please let her know that we'll be there in ten-fifteen minutes." Andy spoke around her sandwich, making Miranda purse her lips. "Hey, I'm hungry."

"Fine." Miranda took one of the sandwiches and eyed it suspiciously. Biting into it, she ended up making the process short, practically inhaling it before she did a repeat performance with the second sandwich.

"That good, huh?" Andy smiled and ate half of her second sandwich.

"They weren't a complete disaster." Miranda sipped her orange juice. "Goodness, I can feel life reenter my body. Amazing."

"I agree. Your body is amazing." Andy left half a glass and half a sandwich, feeling a tad nauseous still and her head was still pounding.

"Are you going to eat that?" Miranda looked casually at the plate.

"No. Help yourself." Andy swore the last piece of food was gone before she ended the short sentence.

Miranda pulled out her cell phone and dialed. "Hello, Bobbsey. Yes. No, no. We're fine and you know what? So is Beth. We are going in to see her now, and we'll tell her that she has two new friends who love to meet her once she's feeling up to it. Yes. What? Migraine?" She stood now, her usual stance, hand on hip, phone to ear. "I should call—no? Ah. You have. Good girl. And yes, Caroline too. She is. Probably for the best. Yes. We'll be home within an hour. I'll call you if we're delayed. Ciao, Bobbsey." Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. "I shouldn't be surprised, since I know being prone to migraines are hereditary."

"What? Oh, God. Mom?" Andy sat up slowly. Carefully she lowered her feet to the floor. "I should've guessed. She was rubbing her forehead before we left. All the emotional drama. Girls okay?" She already knew from Miranda's demeanor that the twins were fine.

"Yes. They have played nurses with your mom. I worry for her. My girls don't do anything by half." Miranda actually smiled, very faintly. "Virginia is dozing on the couch in the TV-room."

"All right." Andy shook her head at the wheelchair sitting inside the door. "I can walk. Let's go see Beth. I need to know why she was in the shed."

"I'll say." Miranda carried her coat and Andy's jacket on one arm, and offered the other one to Andy. "This time, can you please remain on your feet?"

"Yes, Miranda."

Miranda stopped and turned toward Andy so fast, she made her stumble. "Don't you 'yes, Miranda' me. I have plans for you once we've both recovered some from this evening from hell." She placed a determined kiss on Andy's half-open lips. "Now let's go. No dawdling."

##########

**To be continued in part 13/?**

##########


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 13

##########

Beth Donovan was not as pale anymore and she had stopped shivering. Andy was relieved to see the little girl awake and seemingly unharmed.

"Hi, Beth." Andy limped across the small room and gratefully nodded at Leo Donovan when he offered her his chair next to the bed. Miranda stood behind Andy with her hands on her shoulders. "I'm so glad to see you're feeling better."

"Are you mad at me?" Beth whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Mad? No! No, no. Why would I be angry?" Andy glanced up at Miranda who squeezed her shoulders gently.

"He cut you. He hurt you." Beth sobbed. "Because of me. I shouldn't have—shouldn't have…" Her voice broke and she couldn't continue.

"Honey." Andy slid up on Beth's bed. "Please, Beth. You're not to blame for anything. Only that horrible man is. I promise. Nobody is mad at you. Nobody." She held out her arms and the child scooted closer and buried her face into Andy's chest. Thin arms wound around her waist and Andy had to swallow her own tears. "There you go. See? I don't blame you for anything. Is this why you were in Miranda's shed? Was that why you ran away?"

"I saw on TV that you were staying with someone famous. I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah?" Andy focused only on Beth.

"You were hurt because of me. I pulled you over to where Yamal was. I didn't think that man was still there when the police came. I th-thought he'd gone."

"You did the right thing. I'm sure your mom and dad taught you how to call for help, right? To look for a police officer, or a security guard?"

"Yeah, but—"

"And you needed help, but the police was so far away, all across the yard. I was there, and you probably thought I looked safe."

"Yes!" Beth peered up at Andy. "That's what I figured. I thought you looked nice, like a big sister almost, a grownup one. And then he—he…" Swallowing hard, Beth hugged Andy again. "I looked at the news on TV. They reported from the police station and the hospital, they showed your picture and your name. I googled it. I saw a picture online that said, "Heroic Andrea Sachs leaves hospital accompanied by former boss, famous editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly." And then another text said that Miranda Priestly lives on the Upper East Side only a block from Central park."

Beth sighed. "I had to find you, Andy. I had to make sure you knew I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

"How did you find Ms. Priestly's house, pumpkin?" Leo Donovan asked. His tired features were contradicted by the light in his eyes when he regarded his daughter.

"I had change for the bus. When I got to Upper East Side, I walked up and down the streets in the fancy neighborhood—and then I saw the photographers. Lots of them, sort of waiting outside this large house. I was curious, and so cold. I walked past them a couple of times. I heard them talk about this being the Priestly townhouse." Beth left Andy's arms and stood on the floor, several blankets around her. "I walked around the back and…the gate was open. I went inside the yard. I figured I could hide in the shed until the next day when I could perhaps spy Andy through a window. I'm so sorry, Mom, I should've taken my cell phone. I shouldn't have—I'm sorry…" Beth curled up and hid against her father's chest. "I didn't mean to hurt anybody. I don't know why I didn't wake up in the shed again. I was so tired and cold, and all I wanted was to sleep."

"Hypothermia." Miranda spoke softly. "Beth, you know I'm Miranda Priestly, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Beth whispered.

"I know Andrea quite well. She was hurt, yes, but not by you, or anything you did. Dieter Schroff is the only one responsible for the injuries to Yamal and the other children. And the way I know Andrea, given the chance, she would do it again—in a heartbeat. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Now, I have something important to tell you." Miranda leaned forward and placed two fingers under Beth's chin, tipping it back. "I have two girls, Caroline and Cassidy, they're eleven years old, in fact they'll be twelve soon. They made me promise to ask if you would come for a proper visit once you're feeling better, and your mother and father as well, naturally."

"To visit you and Andy too?" Beth's eyes widened, but Andy saw a new sparkle ignite.

"Yes, of course," Miranda said easily. "I will leave my card with your parents. We'll keep in touch that way in the meantime. No more adventures and sleeping in people's sheds, all right?"

Beth smiled shyly. "All right." Her eyelids were suddenly heavy and the little girl sagged against her father.

"Think we better put her back on the bed." Inez stood and helped place her child under the covers. She turned around, moving so quickly she startled Andy. "I can't imagine what might've happened if…if that man had been alone with Yamal and Beth. If you hadn't been there." Her words ended in a whimper. Leo hugged her from behind and she turned in his arms, clinging to him.

"I think it's time we went home, now that we know Beth is out of danger. I mean what I said. My daughters are eager to meet her."

"We'll be in touch, Ms. Priestly."

"Miranda. Please." Miranda waved away the titles. Andy was standing next to the impeccably dressed woman, feeling as if she was asleep standing up by now.

"I agree. Let's go," Andy murmured and wasn't surprised when Miranda wrapped an arm around her.

"No more fainting. Let's go."

They said goodbye to the Donovans and as Miranda guided Andrea to the entrance, she already her phone out, ordering the car around.

##########

Miranda decided to let Virginia sleep on the couch. She knew it was comfortable enough, and the poor woman was exhausted and very pale. The twins had impressed their mother by getting ready for bed and only staying up enough to make sure Miranda and Andrea got home.

"So she's really all right?" Caroline asked for the third time.

"Yes. I wouldn't fib about something like that," Andrea said. "Your mom also kept her promise and invited Beth and her parents to come for a visit when she's recuperated."

"Ah. Goodie." Cassidy smiled sleepily. "Can we sleep in tomorrow? We let Patricia out late so she shouldn't have to go out super-early."

"Thank you, Cassidy. We appreciate it." Miranda tucked her in and kissed her forehead. "I take it you two have decided that sleeping together is a good thing after a day like today." She turned to the other red head on the second pillow. "Sleep tight, Caroline."

"G'night, Mom."

Miranda let a nightlight stay on in Cassidy's bathroom and then ushered Andrea out into the hallway before closing the door. "I don't know about you, but I'm too tired to even think about reheating the casserole."

"You read my mind, Miranda." Andy fidgeted where she stood. "Uhm. Now that my mom and the girls are here…should I? I mean, third floor?"

"Goodness, Andrea, you speak in code sometimes. Are you asking if I think you should use the guestroom, or are you asking if it's all right for you to use it?"

"No. I mean, yes, sort of. I don't…I would rather sleep with you. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable when the girls are home…and mom."

Miranda had to smile at the babbling young woman. Andrea, so typical, was trying to think of everybody else but herself. "And doesn't it matter what I want?" Miranda deliberately raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"It's all that matters."

Miranda gasped. Taking the sight Andrea in, every little detail of the stunning, albeit a bit worse for wear, woman before her, she barely had enough spare concentration to continue breathing. "Well, then." Miranda took Andrea by the hand and led her to the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

She watched Andrea go into the bathroom and then lost her breath again when she notice the door remaining open. It only took Andrea half a minute to curse under her breath in there and then return in the doorway, impatiently tugging at the buttons. "I can't fu—I mean, I can't do this. Guess I'm too tired."

"Let me help." Oh, God, this would be a test of her self-discipline. Miranda deftly unbuttoned the shirt and helped pull it off. "We should change your bandages."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Miranda opened the first aid kit Sandy had restocked the previous day. Helping Andrea to sit on the vanity, she carefully removed the old bandages and forced herself not to wince at the angry red welts. At least Dieter Schroff hadn't cut her deep enough to sever any major arteries. _Just enough to cause her pain._ Anger simmered under the surface and she would have to harness it. Normally slow to anger, but easy to annoy, Miranda clenched her teeth and kept cleaning the wounds. She was relieved to see they were healing remarkably fast and the discoloration was already going into the greenish-yellow phase.

"Miranda, you're going to give yourself a headache."

"What?" Miranda frowned.

"That won't help either," Andrea said and smoothed the frown out with her thumb. "You're biting down so hard, your jaws will creak any second. Or disintegrate."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm doing no such thing." Miranda willed her jaws to relax. This hurt quite a bit, but she welcomed the pain. It helped her focus. "There." She attached the last piece of tape. "You're doing better."

"Good. I mean, I can feel it. I'm not as achy and I have no need for any of those super strong pills tonight." Andrea looked at Miranda's lips. "I can think of better things."

"Ah. Hm. You're not wearing any, but I need to remove my makeup."

Andrea shifted sideways on the counter, clearly not about to leave the bathroom. Miranda shrugged and pulled out some makeup removal pads from a drawer. As she raised one to her face, Andrea stopped her.

"May I do it?" She bit her lower lip as she gazed at Miranda.

"Why…all right." Handing over the pad, Miranda stood very still, feeling awkward and fidgety. She hadn't fidgeted in twenty some years!

"Come closer." Andrea spread her legs and motioned for Miranda to step in between them.

Unable to quite grasp her own actions, Miranda stood between Andrea's thighs and then closed her eyes as Andrea began gently caressing her face with the pad.

"I learned from Serena how to do this the right way." Andrea smiled. "She caught me scrubbing away and was shocked to the core at how I treated my skin. So, she took me under her wings and gave me some lessons, much to Em's dismay. Actually, the last lesson ended in all three of us going barhopping, which was very enlightening when it comes to our favorite Brit's persona. She's much more open, and a tad less proper, when she's had a few tequilas."

"I'm not sure I want to know," Miranda murmured. "Tequila? Really?"

"Ah, don't frown. You like margaritas, don't you?"

"I prefer red wine, or whisky, but yes, I do enjoy a margarita if on vacation or so."

"Then you like tequila."

"Not straight up with lemon and salt."

"Ah. You just don't want to be seen licking your hands in public." Andrea giggled. "That would totally not go with your image."

"Astute observation." Miranda peered through her lashes at Andrea. Her smile were of the illuminate kind. It was amazing to see, at last, finally. "I have nothing against licking, per se. Just not while observed."

Andrea dropped the new pad she just took from the jar. "Wh-what? Oh. Wow. Really?"

"Yes. Really." Pleased that she caught Andrea off guard, Miranda closed her eyes again. "Make sure you get all the mascara off. It's water proof and can be difficult to remove."

"Serena taught me how to do that too." Andrea gently put two pads on Miranda's eyelids and kept them there with hardly any pressure. Counting slowly to sixty, she replaced them with new ones, judging from how cool they felt, and wiped away the mascara. "There. Gone. Clean as a whistle."

"You silly girl." Miranda looked up, checking her face in the mirror. "Very good."

"Now, night cream, right?"

"Yes. You should use some too. Never too early to start."

"Okay. I'll do you. You do me." Andrea winked.

Miranda jerked. "God."

Only chuckling, Andrea pressed the pump of the night cream bottle and began smoothing it out over Miranda's face. She used her fingertips in slow, sensual circles, adding some to Miranda's neck too.

When she was done, Miranda cleaned Andrea's face with a pad even if she wasn't wearing makeup, and then added some night cream.

"Mm," Andrea said and smiled. "I smell like you. This is what I used to sense when I delivered the 'Book' some evenings. You would come to the foyer dressed in your robe, and smell like this. Wonderful."

"I never knew you noticed."

"I did." Andrea opened her eyes. "I notice everything about you. First it was my job and I started learning how to pick up on every little nuance just because I was afraid of getting fired. Then, I began to find you fascinating."

"Really? In what way?" Miranda wasn't fishing. She really wanted to know.

"I saw such contradictions and those always intrigued me. You were literally one woman at work, in the office, another woman with me in the car, yet another with your daughters, and…especially, amazingly, someone I saw rarely, but I knew were there, I glimpsed her rarely. It was the one I've come to know for two days now." Andrea colored faintly. "I—I really don't want to see her vanish for good again. I realizes that part of your persona can't be present at all times, but I _ache_ inside at the thought of never seeing this, this _you_, again."

"This 'me' is the person you bring out." Miranda knew what Andrea meant. The observation was accurate. She compartmentalized her personas just like that. It was necessary for her to remain in control. What Andrea didn't understand yet, was that the Miranda she allowed her to see, was the real one. The unadulterated, no frills, 'just me' Miranda who rarely was allowed to surface.

"I'm not mysterious in any way," Andrea said and sighed. She slid down from the vanity. "I'm just me, a WYSIWYG kind of person. I understand that it can seem quite boring."

"First of all, boring doesn't enter the equation, Andrea, and secondly, what on earth is WYSIWYG? Sounds like an awful mental condition or something."

Andrea laughed, her trademark cackle that made Miranda's lips curl into a reciprocating smile whether she wanted to or not. "Miranda, it's not a diagnosis, it means 'what you see is what you get'."

"Ah. I see. Don't sell yourself short, darling. You have hidden depths…even hidden from you, I think."

Andrea's mouth fell open. "Wow. Really? That would be cool."

"Now, Ms. WYSIWYG, it's time to go to bed." Miranda began to remove her clothes. "Can you manage?"

"I think so, now that my hands aren't bandaged." Andrea walked back to the bedroom and sat down on the side of the bed, pushing her clothes off. Dressed only in a small tank top and lace boy briefs, she crawled into bed.

Miranda swallowed hard. Her nipples became diamond-hard and as she undressed, she knew she wouldn't waste time finding new pajamas, but followed Andrea's example and slid in on her side similarly dressed. Turning off the light using her remote, only the nightlight from the bathroom made it possible to see Andrea.

"I'm so tired, but I'm not sleepy. Isn't that weird?" Andrea sighed and rolled over on her side, facing Miranda.

"No. Not 'weird'. Your mind is processing things, I'd imagine. I know mine is."

"I suppose." Andrea shifted, clearly unable to settle down.

"Are you all right?" Miranda purred. "Anything I can _do_ for you, Andrea?"

"God." Andrea whimpered. "Do you have to sound like that? You know, you _know_ what that does to me."

"I do not. Please. Tell me." Scooting closer, Miranda ran light fingertips along Andrea's arm. "What does this tone of voice do to you?"

"When you speak like that, so low, your voice reverberates…it creates tremors. I tremble all over."

This was bound to backfire, but she didn't care. Miranda rubbed her thighs together. "Interesting. Go on."

"Go _on_?" Andrea squeaked. "Shit. Oh. Sorry. I mean, woops." She pulled her legs up and shoved her hands down under the covers, out of sight. "How blunt do you want me to be, exactly?"

"Blunt."

"I'm so dead," Andrea muttered. "All right. When you sound like that, all purr-like and when you focus all your attention on me, and tease me, I—I get all wet. I need to rub my legs together, 'cause of the ache. I mean, what I want is to touch myself, but since you're right there, doing the purring, I can't. So I press my thighs together and rub, sort of inconspicuously."

"By all means. Rub your thighs together, but don't touch yourself. Not yet." Miranda pressed her own legs together. It only made the ache Andrea talked about worse. "And go on."

"So, I rub my th-thighs together. If I'm lucky, you use this voice when I'm sitting down already, or somehow hidden from view. The only time I've really touched myself—oh crap." Andrea put her hand over her mouth, her eyes huge in the muted light.

Miranda's skin erupted in goose bumps. "Yes?" she asked. "Continue. When did you touch yourself while talking to me?"

"Oh, God I'm so screwed." Andrea pressed her face into her pillow for a moment. "You're not going to think I'm a total sleaze ball?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. And don't keep me waiting."

"Okay, okay." Andrea pulled the covers all the way up to her chin. "Remember when you were in the Hamptons and kept calling me with questions?"

Actually, Miranda did. She had spent a four day weekend at the Hamptons with the girls, Stephen, and his parents. Her marriage was in the last death throes and even if she didn't recognize the signs, Miranda had loathed the feeling of being trapped with no access to the 'Book', her routine, or her assistant. She had left Stephen and the girls with her in-laws with the excuse of having to call her assistant, call Andrea and thus not having to carry on mindless conversations that only entailed gossip and thinly veiled criticism about her work. Talking with Andrea had been a godsend. She had kept the conversation going longer than normal, disguising it as questions regarding the preparation for Paris Fashion Week. Had she purred? Miranda thought back. Perhaps? Yes, probably. "Yes, I remember. Tell your side of it." Miranda shifted closer and pushed her right knee in between Andrea's as she placed her hand on her hip.

"You kept calling, and you didn't seem too eager to hang up. I, uhm, heard Stephen and some other guy rant and go on in the background a couple of times, and figured they were both probably drunk. You needed someone to talk to, to get a break from them, and I was so happy you chose me. At least I felt like you chose me." Andrea moved restlessly around Miranda's knee. "So once we'd dealt with the practicalities, your voice sank into that murmur, that purr, and I was shocked, I mean totally freaking out over how wet I got. The more you spoke, and it could be about any topic, it was the quality of your voice that got me going. When you called the last time, the Monday evening before you return to Manhattan, you were…agitated. Not irritable, which I knew how to handle, but upset. I didn't know what to say. I knew for a fact that if I said something direct and personal, you'd hang up. So, I went over the notes and dared to ask some follow up questions, and it was then I knew you didn't want to hang up. You don't ask Miranda Priestly questions, and yet I did, and you kept talking. You told me an anecdote from your early days as an editor-in-chief when going to Paris, and I was so swollen, so wet, and my nipples were hurting me so much, I had to take my shirt off."

"Like this? This is nearly painful." Miranda took Andrea's left hand and pushed it against her breast, outside the flimsy material in her tank top.

"Oh! Ohhh…yes. I know just how that feels." Andrea caressed Miranda's breast and gently thumbed her hard nipple. "I was naked pretty soon and biting my lips and tongue not to moan. I knew I had to make myself come sooner or later, and that's when I knew…I knew I'd never had the chance again. Ever. I was alone, Nate had moved out, and there you were, sounding so close, talking just to me…and purring…"

Miranda rubbed Andrea's hip, moving in closer to cup her bottom. "You're on the bed, wet, swollen, aching…then what?"

"Then you started talking about the French cuisine. You talked about the food you liked, and if I thought you purred before, you virtually moaned while educating me about fine dining and French vines. I, of course, thought of French kissing, and I pushed my fingers inside me so hard, and so many, that it nearly hurt." Andrea gasped and rocked against Miranda's knee. "Oh, please, please, closer."

"Like this?" Miranda pressed her knee against the damp fabric of Andrea's briefs. The amount of wetness surprised her. "Oh, you're not exaggerating. You're very wet. Delicious so."

"I fucked myself so hard, I was sure you heard the noise, heard me breath hard, or how I bit into my pillow as I came."

"Y-You came? You had an orgasm?" Miranda's jerked and removed her leg from between Andrea's. Moving with frantic speed, she replaced her knee with the palm of her hand. "I could've heard you come, and you _cheated_ me on it. You kept it from me."

"Wh-what? No, I mean I couldn't have…oh, God, Miranda… yes…" Andrea arched, her hips rolling under Miranda's hand. "I'm sorry. I was so sure I was a horrible person for feeling like I did. I wanted to. I wanted to share it, to hear you reciprocate, but I knew, or thought I knew, it was impossible."

"Now you know different." Miranda pushed the drenched fabric aside. "Now you know so what will you do next time?"

"Next time? Next time…I'll let you hear _everything_. I'll tell you just how I feel, and what I'm doing."

"Pinch me." Miranda shoved her free hand inside her own panties. "Pinch my nipples." She rubbed her clit furiously as she slid two fingers gently into Andrea. "God, you're hot. You're so incredibly hot. So wet…hot…and _mine_."

Andrea slapped a hand over her mouth as she came around Miranda's fingers. She whimpered and moaned mutedly, undulated in long, jerky movements. Eventually she removed her hand and only small sighs and whimpers. Then, the drunken look of pleasure slowly changed, and a feral gleam appeared. "Now, you." Andrea pushed her free hand down, cupping Miranda's inside her panties that had temporarily stopped rubbing her clit. "Now you show me how you do it. Keep going, Miranda."

The tables changed, just like that, Miranda gave in and did so very easily. She spread her legs wide. Andrea pushed her fingers on top of Miranda's. "You're so wet, I'm slipping between your fingers," she whispered hotly. "So wet and swollen, just like me. Now I know, next time you speak to me in that voice, when your tone reverberates in me like it did when you called me from the Hamptons, that means you're about to get as horny, as needy, as demanding…" She bent forward and bit into Miranda's free nipple through the fabric, licking it and then nibbled it again.

"Andrea!" Miranda arched off the bed, rubbing herself, feeling Andrea push fingers inside her, bite her, _want _ her. The orgasm was like nothing she had ever felt. Her legs melted, her stomach clenched and in between the sweetest agony pulsated, convulsed, pulled her into a tight spring before all strength left her. Andrea caught her sweaty, slumped body, hugging her close.

"Andrea. Oh, God. What…what are you doing to me?"

"To you?" Andrea pressed smiling lips against Miranda's temple. "You were the one…but I guess, we were both…doing."

Miranda trembled and pressed her face against the unharmed side of Andrea's neck. She closed her eyes, feeling so warm, so safe. An alien feeling. "Just don't. Let. Go."

"Never."

##########

To be continued in part 14/?

##########


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 14

##########

Miranda gazed at Andrea where she lay propped up on the couch, watching a 'Love Actually' with the twins and Virginia. The latter was still a little pale after her migraine attack, but still managed to enjoy the comedy the girls had chosen.

"This is my favorite feel good movie," Caroline said, gazing back at Virginia. "Whenever I feel rotten, I watch this, and…I just have to feel good and smile. Do you have a movie like that?"

"Now that you mention it, I do. It's an older movie, but I only bought it a year ago." Andrea's mother smiled. "It's called 'When Harry Met Sally'."

"We have that one. Cassidy grinned. We can watch that later if you want."

"Perhaps," Miranda said and stepped inside. "We're having Richard over for dinner, remember?" Her stomach churned at the thought of having the volatile man in her house. "I was debating whether it would easier for Andrea and Virginia to discuss matters without us there, girls."

Andrea looked up. "Miranda?" She looked alarmed.

"It's up to you, Andrea. If you want me here, I'm happy to stay. I am, however, not too happy about subjecting my girls to your father's less cordial side." Miranda nearly patted herself on the shoulder for being so diplomatic.

"I understand that. I really do." Her eyes glossy, Andrea looked down at the two girls. "I know my dad scared you."

"He didn't scare us," Cassidy said defiantly. "I don't think he meant to scare anybody. He was upset and—impolite."

Miranda blinked. "I suppose you're right."

"I have talked to Richard twice today," Virginal said. "He's promised to control his temper."

"Even when he realizes I'm not going back to live in Cincinnati?" Andrea sighed. "He wants to call the shots, Mom. You know he does."

"Yes, I know, honey, but this time I think he realized…really understood, he went too far." Virginia plucked at the blanket she had tucker around her. "He's been pretty miserable and he's felt left out over at the hotel."

Miranda nearly spoke her mind in her usual curt way, but the look of faint hope on Andrea's face made her bite the tip of her tongue. "Well, then. We will all stay and have dinner together. Sandy has done enough to feed a small army."

"Can I help with anything?" Virginia asked.

Miranda was about to say no, but thought better of it. "Yes, actually. Would you mind helping me set the table? Sandy's busy making the salad."

"Sure, absolutely." Virginia stood and followed Miranda into the dining room.

Together the two women put a new jacquard woven tablecloth on and arranged plates, utensils, and crystal glass-wear.

"Tell me," Miranda said quietly, "when your husband starts in on Andrea about adhering to his plans for her, will you be on his side, or hers?"

Virginia stopped what she was doing, looking wide-eyed at Miranda. "He promised not to—"

"Not tonight. Perhaps he'll keep that promise. I don't know him like you do, so you tell me. Will he break that promise? And even if he does, sooner or later he's going to try to convince Andrea. Am I wrong?"

Virginia pressed her lips into fine line. "No. No, you're not. He will do his best to remain neutral tonight. Frankly, you intimidate him, not that he'd ever confess to that. As you say, I know him very well, even if I don't always agree, or understand."

"Andrea pays the price for you trying to keep the peace between her and her father."

"What do you mean?" Virginia's eyes flashed. "I've been the buffer between them for years. Ever since she was a senior in high school."

"And you don't think this hurt her? To see you caught in the middle because she wants to live her own life?" Miranda kept her voice soft, but she could see that her words stung.

"You're one to talk," Virginia said, her voice a low hiss. "You're not much better than Richard. You want her here. With you."

"In a sense that's true. I care about Andrea, and yes, you could argue that I have ulterior motives. I want her to stay in New York." Miranda placed the last fork next to a plate. "But there's where the comparison fails. If I knew Andrea would be happier back in her hometown, working for her father, or even in Los Angeles, or Europe, I wouldn't stand in her way."

"You don't strike me as a selfless woman." Her nose wings expanding, Virginia challenged Miranda. "You go after what you want. It's how you've reached your position."

"Then there's your proof. Since I'm prepared to let Andrea go on with her life, whether that means I have to be without her…it should tell you something about the depth of my feelings."

Virginia opened her mouth, only to snap it close. Staring at Miranda, she slowly put down the last of the wine glasses. "You really do care." She sounded like she had never expected to believe in that—not from Miranda. "I don't think you have much to fear, judging from how my daughter looks at you." Virginia swallowed. "Her eyes rarely leave you, unless it's to focus on one of your daughters. I know her so well, and I haven't seen her as mesmerized—ever."

"Andrea is intense. She never does anything half-way." Miranda gave a one-shoulder shrug. "She's loyal. Telling the truth about the schism between her and Richard was hard for her. And working for me was no picnic, and yet she was loyal to the very last second."

"She told me she tossed her phone in the fountain and walked out on you." Virginia smiled faintly. "In one way, I'm not surprised, she does have a temper. But it's still mindboggling—and a true testament to her emotional state."

The doorbell rang, making both women flinch.

"Guess we'll know soon enough how this evening will turn out," Miranda said and left Virginia. On her way to open the front door, Miranda put her best negotiation face on. It barely hid the dragon lady persona, but it would reassure Andrea that she was at least trying.

##########

Andy watched her father eat, smile politely, and occasionally glance uneasily at the two mini-Mirandas that sat on either side of his daughter. Caroline and Cassidy were polite, but their smiles equaled those of alligators.

"Corporate law," Richard answered Miranda's question regarding his law firm. "We're on our twenty-first year now and, sure, times are tough for a lot of people, but we still make a decent living, albeit nothing as grand as this." He waved her fork in a small circle, indicating the surroundings. "We make do."

"Dad. Please." Andy smiled tightly. "You make it sound like you're barely scraping by. That's hardly the case."

"No, and you should be happy that it isn't. I remember us sending you quite a few checks, since you weren't able to make a living on the money Runway paid you." Richard sneered. "I can see why every extra dollar that magazine makes doesn't go to the employees."

"Richard!" Andy's mom paled.

"It's true. We send her several checks."

"I didn't ask for them." Andy was furious now and her head began to throb. "I was grateful for the first one, since I had to work for a month to earn my first check and that hadn't come in yet. You kept sending checks, and you know what, I cashed them and put them in my savings account because I didn't want to hurt your feelings, Dad. I didn't need them. I worked a lot of overtime and I made it fine without any charity. I went through another rough patch when switching jobs, but I still didn't have to use the extra money you sent. I can have it transferred back to your account right away." So angry now, she was trembling, Andy jumped when Cassidy placed a small hand on her arm.

"Andy? You look really pale. Mom, she's cold and sweaty. That's not right, is it?"

"No, it's not." Miranda stood and rounded the table. "Darling, you better lie down."

"My head hurts," Andy whispered, but I don't want to leave you here with him." She was trembling now and felt cold drops of sweat run down her back.

"We'll be fine. I don't want you to faint again because of a migraine attack. Come with me."

Andy clung to Miranda's hands, her own being icy cold and clammy. "God, I'm pitiful. I can't even argue with my own dad without swooning like some Victorian spinster."

"Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. You're still recuperating." Miranda glared at Richard. "Please be mindful of that."

Andy could tell how it pained Miranda to be cordial to her father.

"You must be so proud of yourself now, Richard," Ginny spat. "You managed to be here less than two hours before you actually make her sick. She's better off without you. Without us." She motioned toward Miranda and the girls. "Look at them, rallying around her, taking care of her, not judging her or patronizing her. And I like a fool sit and stare at you, trying to will you to listen, to care about what Andy wants, and not force your own opinions, ideas, or prejudice on her."

"It's my job to guide her." Richard pushed his chin out. "As her father—"

"Your job as guide is over." Ginny stood. "She's twenty-six. She's a grown woman who has patiently listened to you go on and on and on about how you disapprove of every single aspect of her life." Her voice sank into a desperate whisper. "Are you willing to risk losing her for good? Because if you are, know this…I'm not! Go back to the hotel. We're going home tomorrow. I'll give you one more chance to see reason and make everything up to Andy, and if you can't…or won't…" Ginny looked around the table and shrugged. "Then we've got trouble."

##########

Miranda would have loved to be pleasantly surprised by Andrea's father, but since she wasn't, she decided to merely cut the evening short. Very short.

"Girls? You're finished with your meal, right? Why don't you clear the table and then go watch that film you talked about earlier. Virginia, Richard, I'm certain you realize Andrea need to lie down. You better say goodnight because I fully trust her to sleep until morning."

"She's not a child. Let her decide whether to stay and speak to her parents," Richard said sharply.

"So, when you want things your way, I'm a child. When it suits your other arguments, I'm not." Andrea spoke with a slight slur, startling Miranda. "You're right, Miranda. T-time for bed."

"I wish to speak to both of you when I return. Please help yourself to the bar in the living room." She hoped Richard wouldn't turn out to be heavy on the alcohol, but she would need time to reassure Andrea and help her get settled.

Virginia stood and kissed Andrea's cheek as Miranda helped her toward the stairs. Richard rose as if to attempt the same, but his wife rounded on him, making him sit down again.

Upstairs, Miranda studied Andrea's pained expression. "Talk to me."

"I keep apologizing for him. I make excuses. He comes back with the same ol', same ol'." Andrea closed her eyes as she sat down on her side of the bed.

Miranda pulled her head down on her shoulder. "I think you should let your mother deal with him, and his issues, for now. The way it looked to me, Virginia's just about had it with him."

"If this breaks them up, won't that sort of be my fault?"

"No."

"But—"

"No." Miranda kissed Andrea's forehead. "Now show me where it hurts."

"Right there." Andrea pointed to the back of her head. "I don't think it's a migraine, but it hurts just the same."

"I would guess it's a tension headache. If it gets worse, I'll call our family doctor."

"I think I need a bath. Why don't you go down and say your peace to dad while I crawl into the tub? I think I have healed enough to bathe if I cover the bandage on my neck with some of that stuff the nurse gave me."

"Good idea. You're so cold. Let me run the bath for you." Miranda stood and helped Andrea into the bathroom. "I have my personal setting when it comes to degrees and jets. Why don't you try that out and if you want to change anything, you can adjust it on the panel over there." She pointed to the rim of the tub. "It's pretty intuitive."

"Okay." Andrea swayed where she stood and Miranda began to have second thoughts about leaving her alone in the tub.

"On the other hand, I think discussing anything with your father tonight might be counter-productive. I'll go downstairs and ask if your mother wants to remain here with us, or go back to the hotel with Richard."

"My guess is she'll want to have it out with him." Andrea grimaced.

"I'll be right back. Don't go into the tub without me."

"Without…? Oh." Andrea smiled beautifully despite her headache.

"That's right. Take two extra-strength Tylenols while you wait for me."

"Yes, Miranda."

Miranda walked into the living room with an expression that her staff at Runway would recognize only too well. Nothing scared them more. "Virginia. Richard. I've opened my house to you, and in your case, Virginia, the offer still stands. You are welcome to stay." Her voice, eerily soft even to her own ears, made Richard take a step back from where he was staying by the window with a whisky in his right hand. "Richard, your presence has not been beneficial to Andrea, and therefore you must leave and not return until she asks to see you. The way she feels right now, I wouldn't hold my breath."

"You can't keep me from my own daughter," Richard hissed. "You're not her family. You have no say."

"I agree. I have no say, but she does. And as the one she relies on me to help her heal, not only physically, but emotionally, after this ordeal, I take my duty very seriously. Andrea is no fool. She knows her own mind, and she clearly knows yours. As I see it, you can choose to go back to the hotel alone or with your wife, Richard. It's up to Virginia."

"Let me get my things and I'll go back with you, Richard." Virginia sighed. "We have to talk and nothing good'll come from putting it off. Perhaps neutral ground will be best." She turned to Miranda, her sorrowful eyes still very determined. "Tell Andy I'll be coming over to say goodbye before we head back tomorrow. I have seen enough to know that she's in the best of hands right here." She drew a deep, trembling breath and then crossed the floor and hugged Miranda.

Stunned at Virginia's open display of affection, Miranda hesitantly patted her back.

When alone with Richard, the last of the man's polite veneer fell off.

"It's fucking sick," he said, his voice a low snarl. He emptied the last of his whisky and glared at Miranda. "I don't know how you've twisted her head, or what kind of setup you run here, lady—"

"Shut up." Miranda spoke in a barely audible voice, forcing him to go quiet and lean forward to hear her. She saw beads of sweat break out on his upper lip. _Excellent._ "You are pathetic. With a father like you, it amazes me that Andrea is such a wonderful, open-minded, brave woman. Not only that, it's staggering how much Virginia has had to compensate for your emotional incompetence. I've played nice—"

"You call this nice? Are you delusional?" Richard slammed his glass down on a side table. "I wouldn't—"

"Oh, trust me; this is still me being nice. My daughters are on the next floor, and so is Andrea. With them close by, I play nice." Miranda sauntered two steps closer to Richard. "I can give you a list of names of people who would no doubt love to share with you just how they felt when I stopped being…nice. I suggest you don't challenge me. You won't win."

"If Andy knew this barracuda side of you—"

"She does."

"You treat her like this?" Richard looked shocked.

"No."

"You're one sick, twisted bitch."

"Compared to being a controlling, whiny, unfeeling, dead-beat father, I think you win this particular competition." Miranda didn't take her eyes off the stewing man. "You hurt her several times too many. If you do it again, and believe me, I'll find out if you do, you will regret it. You have a lot of damage control to do with your wife. I suggest you focus on that, and maybe, just maybe, Andrea will forgive you."

"I'm ready, Richard," Virginia said from behind. "Let's go to the hotel. Miranda, I'll call you tomorrow and you can update me on Andrea's headache—and her frame of mind."

"Very well. Do not hesitate to call if you require anything. The hotel management knows you're my guest, everything's taken care of in advance." Miranda couldn't bring herself to say guests, plural. If she would have her way, she'd throw Richard out onto the New York streets to fend for himself.

"Thank you, Miranda. I appreciate everything." Virginia turned to Richard who had donned his overcoat with jerky movements. "Let's go, Richard."

He merely turned around and walked out the door. Virginia nodded at Miranda and followed behind him, suitcase in hand.

Miranda locked the door behind them and walked back up the stairs.

##########

Andy had turned off the water and applied protective plastic with tape over the worst of her wounds. She was still shivering, and the back of her neck and head were throbbing. Pounding. Vaguely, she heard her father raised his voice downstairs, but she was too exhausted, too numb, to worry. Pushing off her clothes, she only had her t-shirt and underwear left to remove, when Miranda returned.

"Help?" Andy smiled faintly. "I tend to get stuck in my t-shirt when I try on my own.

"Of course." Miranda gently tugged the t-shirt off, tossing it into a hamper. Her warm fingers felt good when she unhooked Andy's bra and pulled off her panties. "In you go." She held her steadily against her as Andy lowered herself into the tub.

"Did I misunderstand, or are you joining me?" Andy asked, feeling warmth seep into her cheeks. Maybe she could blame the blushing on the warm, fragrant water?

"You sure you want me to?"

"I suppose with the girls still up…bad idea?"

"No, not a bad idea. In fact, let me go talk to them. I'll be right back." Miranda kissed Andy's forehead.

Would she ever truly get used to being on the receiving end of casual, warm acts of affection from Miranda? Andy didn't know, couldn't imagine this going on for any length of time. The fact that Miranda was being so wonderful to her when Andy needed her badly was amazing in itself. The question was if Miranda would want to be close, in any capacity, once they were back in the daily grind. It was impossible to think that far in the future, and perhaps she should just be happy for what they shared right now? Too soon for big words. Maybe it was never time for big words between them? Andy sighed and leaned back in the tub, finally starting to feel warm. She knew she was in trouble, though, since she had begun second-guessing herself. Once that little devilish voice started ranting Andy knew she tended to sabotage herself. A muted sob broke free and she dipped even further down into the water. Perhaps she could drown the disruptive and unwanted voice in her head this way?

##########

To be continued in part 15/?

##########


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 15

##########

Miranda opened the door to the game room, not surprised at finding her daughters huddled together on the couch with the TV off. Putting on a smile, she crossed the room and sat down next to them. Suddenly she had one girl on either side of her.

"Is he gone? Andy's still here, right? And what about her mom? We like Ginny."

"Yes. Yes, at the hotel. And I find Virginia agreeable too."

Caroline smiled faintly. "We weren't eavesdropping, not really, but we wanted to know if he started yelling or something. He can get totally mad. Guess some dads are like that."

"Some mothers too." Miranda combed her fingers through their hair. "Are you two all right? There was never any real danger. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes." Cassidy still frowned. "Unless you count the fact that Andy _is_ already wounded and she sure doesn't need any other injuries." Sounding older than her twelve years, Cassidy's eyes flashed. "You should never talk to your kids like Mr. Sachs do, no matter how old they are."

"You're correct. Especially, as you said, when the person in question is already hurt."

"What happens now?" Caroline pressed her face into Miranda's shoulder.

"I think Andrea's parents will go back to Cincinnati and talk things through. In the meantime, Andrea will stay here and recuperate as we planned all along. Right now she's in the tub, and she needs my help. She's very upset and I told her I'd be back after checking on you."

"We're fine. You go take care of her. Somebody needs to do it." Cassidy's lips meshed together in a fine line.

"It's not quite bedtime yet, but I have an idea. Why don't you get ready for bed, and make yourself some popcorn, and I'll allow you to have a sleepover in one of your rooms and watch your film there. Just for tonight." Miranda wondered if the girls thought she was bribing them.

"Really?" Caroline's eyes widened and Miranda thought they looked at her like suddenly boasted an extra head. "Eat in our rooms?"

"As I said, just this once. I need to stay with Andrea. She's not feeling well."

"Do you love her, Mom?" Caroline asked quietly.

Miranda gasped, looking down at her girls. "I think you've noticed that Andrea's important to me. I worry about her, and when I thought Dieter Schroff might kill her right before my eyes, I realized that I cared more than I expected." She studied the girls furtively, but all she saw was matter-of-fact nods and serious glances between them.

"But you don't love her like a mom does, do you?" Cassidy tilted her head. "More like a…like a…like a woman."

Miranda blinked. "How do you mean, darling?" Her heart was pounding now and she wondered how the girls had maneuvered her into this interrogation.

"You love us," Cassidy said, motioning between her sister and herself. "And you love Andy, but she's not a child, I mean…" She frowned and looked displeased at not finding the right word, "…I mean, you look at her differently, and your sound different too, when you talk to her, and you still really, really like Andy."

"I do." Miranda felt her heart slow down, and she couldn't imagine loving her girls more than she did in that moment. _So I haven't screwed them up beyond repair after all._ Her last husband's poisonous words from when she returned from Paris and he was waiting for her, waving divorce papers. Andrea just walked away from her and he thought her devastation was because of _him,_ when in reality, Miranda's shattered heart had been about someone else entirely. "So, a good idea with popcorn, a movie, and an impromptu mini-slumber party?"

"Yes!" Caroline let go of her mother and stood. "Which movie should we choose now? I think we ought to wait with Ginny's favorite until she comes back."

"Let's see…" Cassidy accompanied her twin over to the shelves filled with movies.

"Good night, girls. I'll look into you later. Lights out at ten."

"'Night, Mom," the girls echoed, their two heads pushed together as they perused the movies. "Say good night to Andy too."

"Will do. One more thing. You know Andrea is in my room. Knock and wait for either of us to respond before you enter, if you need anything, all right?"

"Sure, Mom," the girls said absentmindedly and waved at her.

Miranda walked down the stairs to the second floor and into her bedroom. She stopped to kick off her four inch pumps, and that's when she heard the muted sobbing from the bathroom. Tugging at buttons in her blouse, she hurried inside and locked the door behind her. "Andrea?"

"Oh. H-hi." Hiccupping Andrea wiped at her cheeks and smiled an all too familiar smile. The type of smile that used to greet Miranda when she came into the office back when she still frightened Andrea.

"What happened after I left?" Miranda pulled off her clothes, not taking her eyes off the distraught woman in the tub. "You weren't feeling well, but you weren't crying."

"Just a…you know…nothing. Really nothing." Something desolate in Andrea's voice settled a block of ice in her stomach.

Miranda got rid of her lingerie and walked over to the tub. "Move a little."

"Wh-what? Oh." Sliding forward, Andrea hugged her knees, not looking at Miranda as she sat down behind her.

"Lean back against me. Just relax." Miranda sighed at the feeling of warm water and hoped hit would thaw the icy sensation inside her. "There. Can you share why you are upset?"

"I need to go back to my apartment, Miranda," Andrea whispered. "The weekend's come and gone, you should be back at Runway. The girls have school tomorrow. I should report to my boss."

"Oh?" Miranda held her breath. What was going on?

"Yes. I mean, life goes on, right? We sh-should…I mean, I have to—oh fuck…" Andrea whispered the last words and then her body was shaking with sobs.

"Darling. Please, don't." _Don't leave again, Andrea!_

"I'm trying not to. I just can't flip a switch as much as I'm sure you'd appreciate that." Becoming rigid, Andrea tried to sit up, away from Miranda.

"I confess I'm thoroughly confused right now. Are you angry with me?" Miranda knew Andrea didn't seem to want her touch, but Miranda couldn't stop herself from scooping warm water over her shoulders. She couldn't let Andrea get cold again.

"No. No, not at all. You've been wonderful."

"So is this one of those "it's not you, it's me" moments?" Miranda could hardly breathe.

"In a way, I suppose." Andrea turned half away from Miranda. "I'm sorry. I wish it could be different."

Miranda tried to backtrack, to figure out when they'd ended up in the twilight zone. She had left Andrea to check on the girls, and yes, she'd been gone a little longer than planned, since the girls had questions. Hurrying back, she'd found Andrea crying. Why was she crying, if she was the one withdrawing? Miranda's heart picked up speed again. Was that it? Andrea had tried to withdraw several times after the school yard incident, and all of those occasions, it had been about how she perceived Miranda's situation and needs.

"So, you stopped caring?" Miranda asked, forcing herself to sound non-committal.

"Stopped…? No!" Andrea turned so fast, water sloshed over the rim of the tub. "Never."

"No, you wouldn't, would you," Miranda tapped her lower lip with her index finger, using her office voice. "Then, you have regrets."

"I don't regret anything b-between us," Andrea whispered. "It's just…I feel skinless. I…I'm not withdrawing because I have regrets or that I don't care. I have to be careful, Miranda. It's too much, too soon, and there must be something wrong with me, because I still want _more_." Whimpering, Andrea hid her face against her pulled up knees.

"Darling, listen to me." Miranda found it near impossible to remain calm. "Even my daughters see the way I feel about you. They have no actual word for it yet, and who can blame them, regardless of age, what child wants to think their parent being in a romantic relationship—ever?"

"What do you mean, even the girls see it?" Andrea kept hiding against her knees.

"They know me so well, and they read me better than most. Up till now I thought you equaled them in that respect, but perhaps that's too much to ask when you're suffering from PTSD." Miranda cupped the back of Andrea's neck. "No more guessing games, please. Tell me why you're so upset."

Andrea lifted her head and gazed at Miranda. Her pupils left hardly any room for the golden brown of her irises, making her eyes look like deep wells of distress. "I'm afraid. I want to be here more than anything. With you, with the girls. You've managed to make me feel like I belong. You're on my side against my own misguided father. It hurts so much knowing this will end. I figured, returning to reality sooner rather than prolonging it, might be better. A coward's way out, I know."

The icy sensation in Miranda's belly began to melt. "The only reason you feel like you belong, is because you do. Don't you dare walk away from me again, unless it's what you really want. If being without me makes you happier than being with me." Miranda cursed her treacherous body that began to tremble. She was supposed to comfort and reassure Andrea, not go to pieces like this.

##########

Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda, only now noticing how pale she was. She lowered them both up to their chins in the large tub. How could she have misunderstood in such a disastrous way? PTSD, Miranda had said. Perhaps. Combined with her and Miranda's turbulent past and her father's accusations, and then some basic insecurities, that was probably enough to screw with most people's minds.

"So the girls like me. And you like me. And you want me to stay, for now."

"Wrong. I want you to stay, period." Miranda nuzzled Andy's cheek. "I don't want you to even consider returning to your apartment until Schroff is sentenced. And then, only if you want to. As far as I'm concerned, I want you here."

"But why, Miranda?" Andy looked up at her and pushed the persistent forelock from Miranda's eyes. "Or perhaps I don't need to know that yet."

"I think you do know." Miranda leaned back against the neck support on the edge of the tub. "I think we both do."

Andy let the water warm her again, only now registering the fact that they were both naked. Together. In a tub. "Uhm. The girls?"

"Yes? What about them?" Miranda kept her eyes closed.

"What time is it? They in bed?"

"They made microwave popcorn and are having a movie-night and sleepover in one of their rooms. They had some questions, which is why I took longer than I thought."

"Anything I need to know?"

"They were oddly similar to yours. Except perhaps for the one where they questioned if my feelings for you were maternal in nature."

"What?" Andy sat up so fast, the water splashed all over Miranda, drenching her face and hair. Covering her mouth with her hand, Andy stared in horror at the limp, wet tresses of hair. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry."

"Wonderful. I was just thinking I could wait and wash my hair until tomorrow morning. Honestly, Andrea."

"Uhm. Well?"

"Well, what?" Miranda glowered at her.

"What did you answer them?"

"What do you think? Nothing."

"Nothing?" Andy squeaked. "What do you mean, nothing?"

"They are clever girls. They figured it out themselves. They determined that I like you, and I quote, 'like a woman," and that I look at you very differently than I look at them. Very observant, my daughters." She gave Andy a glance under elevated eyebrows that clearly said she thought Andy could learn from the wonder kids.

"And that was it?"

"It was."

"Wonder kids. No kidding. This has a striking resemblance to Wonderland." Andy hugged Miranda around her waist. "I'll make it up to you. I can wash your hair."

"Yes?" Miranda gave a purring sound. "I do enjoy having my scalp massaged."

"Cool. Let's see." Andrea reached for a shampoo bottle sitting on a corner shelf. "This one, right?"

"Yes."

"Wet it some more."

Miranda gave her a regal look and then pinched her nose and dunked under the surface. She stayed down a good ten seconds and then reemerged, blinking the droplets away from her, obviously waterproof, mascara covered lashes.

Andy laughed, and as she massaged the shampoo into Miranda's hair, she noticed that her headache was dissipating. _Have a headache? Take one Tylenol Extra Strength and have a minor fight about a major topic with Miranda Priestly, and then call me in the morning._ She snorted and used her blunt nails to scratch gently against Miranda's scalp. "Does that feel good?"

"Mm. Don't stop."

Smiling, Andy kept the lathering and massage up. "It smells so wonderful."

"Mm. Yes."

"Want me to wash anything, eh, else?" Andy tried to sound innocent.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Your back?"

"Thank God. I thought you might be talking about the floor since you emptied half the tub onto it only moments ago."

"I can do your back and then your floor."

"Correction: you can do my back, and then I can do your hair and your back."

"Sounds even better." Andy continued to pump body soap, ridiculously luxurious feeling soap, and spread it over Miranda's back. She massaged it in, using her palm, her fingers and her nails.

Miranda purred and arched, ending up with her head on Andy's shoulder. She wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly her soapy hands cupped Miranda's breasts, washing them, caressing them, in small circles.

"Oh, God." Miranda exhaled deeply.

"That good too?"

"Mm-hm." Miranda squirmed and rubbed her back against Andy's breasts. "Someone else is enjoying it too, I can feel it."

"Hey, can you blame me. You strip right in front of me, jump naked into the tub with me, and tell me you _like_ me. How's a girl supposed to react?"

"By not stopping what you're doing."

Andy moaned and retrieved more soap. She spread it along Miranda's arms, over her stomach and then returned her hands to her legs. "You feel so damn good." Moaning, Andy pulled Miranda closer, which wasn't easy since she was soapy everywhere. She managed to get her knees between Miranda's legs from underneath. Andy spread her legs, thus opening Miranda's legs even more. "I have to have you."

"Andrea." Miranda was trembling even more now than when she was upset earlier.

"I have you touch you and have you. I just got to." Andy lowered her hands in small circles, caressing Miranda with just her fingertips.

"Have to?" Miranda breathed faster.

"Oh, yes. You're irresistible." Raising her knees more, Andy found she had Miranda sort of locked in place. "Seems I have you now."

"What…oh!"

Andy slipped her fingertips in between Miranda's folds, found the already engorged clitoris and barely, barely touched it. "So silky. So wet." It was true. Miranda was drenched, a difference viscosity than the surrounding bathwater.

"Oh, you… you…d-don't stop." Miranda's dragon voice was obliterated, and left was that of a woman lost in overwhelming arousal.

"I won't." Using her free left arm, Andy managed to sneak it behind Miranda and cup her bottom. She now used her fingers in tandem, the left playing between Miranda's buttocks in the same pattern as her right caressed her clit.

"You can't, oh please, you can't…I'm not going to—oh Andrea. Andrea." Miranda clung to the edge of the tub on both sides as her body trembled violently. "What are you doing to me?"

"Having you." Andy gasped, feeling completely breathless at her own audacity and the raw need in Miranda's voice. "Making love to you." She gently pinched the now rock hard clit, rubbing it between her thumb and index finger. She used the corresponding finger on her other hand to barely enter Miranda, teasing her other orifice. "Making love to all of you." Give me your mouth…please…"

Miranda tipped her head back and to the side. Andy found yet another way to add to the pleasure as she deepened the kiss after the first gentle caresses. Soon she sucked at Miranda's lips and tongue in the same rhythm, lulling her into the enticing pace. Miranda groaned and whimpered against Andy's mouth, grinding her bottom against Andy's hips. This in turn pressed Andy's hand against her pubic area.

"Yes," Andy murmured. "Just like that."

"Got to…come…" Miranda gasped. "Please. Oh, damn you, please, please…"

"Then come, Miranda. Come for me." Andy turned her body a little to the side, just enough to push two fingers into Miranda's entrance and one finger from behind.

Miranda stopped moving, going rigid for several moments before she began convulsing with a keening sound.

"Good, good. You've got to be quiet. Shh. That's it. Oh, Ohh." Andy's own orgasm happened so fast and unexpected she feared she might drown them both. Holding them up with trembling legs, Andy shook against Miranda. "God."

"You." Miranda's voice was a mere whisper.

"What?"

"You. You are so…amazing."

A glow erupted in Andy's chest. "Likewise."

"No. I mean. You always know what I need. Even back then. You could r-read me."

"Not always." Andy thought sorrowfully how she'd reacted before.

"More often than not."

"Thank you." Andy rubbed her cheek against Miranda. "I know exactly what you want to do now."

Miranda snorted. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. One—you want to rinse off all the shampoo and soap. And uhm, stuff. Two—then you want to condition the hair and dry off. Three—blow dry."

"Go on."

"Remove makeup and moisturize, put on pajamas, and climb into bed."

"Very good. Still, you missed the most important part." Miranda turned around in the tub and reached for the hand shower.

"Oh, no. What did I miss?" Andy smiled.

"I want to do all that, but I want to do them together with you." Miranda turned on the hand held shower and gave it to Andy. "Rinse me off please. Very thoroughly."

"Sure." Andy made sure the temperature was not too hot or too cold. "Any last minute instructions before we continue?" she asked with a giggle.

"Yes. Try not to drown me."

##########

**To be continued in part 16/?**

##########


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 16

##########

The house was eerily empty. Andy walked from the kitchen into the den, out into the foyer, and into the living room. The beautiful room seemed sterile and cold when not inhabited by Miranda and the girls. Returning to the den, Andy turned on the flat screen, but turned it off again after a few minutes. Impatient, she booted her laptop that sat on the coffee table and pulled it onto her lap. She checked her email, grimaced at the multitude of messages awaiting her. Drumming her fingers on the computer, she felt jitter and uncomfortable.

A sudden sound startled her, until she realized it was her cell phone ringing. The screen said 'Miranda', which made Andy draw a deep sigh and answer. "Hi."

"Hello, Andrea." Miranda sounded like she was walking. "I'm in between meetings, but I felt compelled to call and ask how you're doing."

"I'm okay. I mean fine. I'm fine."

"I think not. You don't sound 'fine'." The sound of Miranda's heels against marble floors stopped. "What is the matter? Are you in pain?"

"No. Actually, I'm doing pretty well. Only need one bandage. Even my knees are starting to look decent."

"I'm glad to hear that. So, not physical discomfort then." Miranda's voice softened. "Is being on your own too much? I will come home."

"No. Please. You've delegated so much already. I knew you were itching to get back to the office." Andy pulled her legs up, resting her chin against her knees. "I can manage. I just switched on my laptop. I think I'll do some writing."

"Are you certain? I'm perfectly able to hand over today's meetings to Nigel and Emily."

"Listen, Miranda, I'm going to have to start handling being on my own. I plan to go back to work on Thursday or Friday."

"That's too soon." Miranda sounded urgent.

"I don't think so. I've cleared with Bradley how much I can write about, we spoke for half an hour this morning."

"I'm still not sure—"

"Miranda. Please. It's what I need to do, all right." Andy held her breath.

Miranda was silent for a moment. "You're right. Of course."

"Miranda?" Andy didn't like the empty tone in Miranda's voice. "I know you're just looking out for me. I really do and I appreciate it. But I have to get back on the horse, or I might be afraid to go out at all, or too afraid to do my job."

"God, of course you're right." Miranda sighed deeply. "I just—worry."

"I do too."

"I'll be home around six tonight. The girls will be home at four."

"I can't wait."

"I miss you also." There was a strange sound over the phone, like Miranda swallowing half the last word. Could she be _crying_?

Andy knew if Miranda indeed was crying, or merely choked up, she would hate if Andy paid any attention to it. Despite that, Andy didn't want Miranda thinking she was not sensitive enough to notice. "I have a surprise for you tonight," she improvised.

"Really?" Surprise made Miranda sound normal, if a bit confused.

"Yes. When we retire for the night…I have a request."

"Good Lord, Andrea. I'm in my office!"

"I know. I'm not on speaker phone, am I?"

"Heaven forbid. You said a request."

"As you're in the office, I won't spell it out, I mean, I don't want to embarrass you…"

"Andrea…" Miranda's soft growl made something tingle all along Andy's spine.

"Okay, okay. Let me give you a hint. Chocolate. Brush. Hm, technically that's two hints."

Now it Miranda swallowed audibly. "You are evil. How am I supposed to sit through the next two meetings now?"

"Whoops."

"See you at six." Miranda hung up.

Andy smiled and reached for her laptop. Pulling up her document, she felt settled enough to write an article about her experience in the school yard.

##########

If there was anything Miranda hated, it was not being in control of what was going on. She had not counted on being late this particular evening, and the sound of her disappointed girls' voices over the phone didn't exactly help either. Andrea had sounded like she would step in and entertain them, but Miranda knew the girls had counted on them all being together for the evening and truth be told, so had she.

Staring out through the side window of the town car, she thought of how quickly things have changed. Less than a week ago, she'd gone through her days, one at a time, conducting business as usual. The opportunity to watch Andrea across the street was a mere guilty pleasure, and if anybody had told her Andrea would be her lover within days, she'd have cut them off at the ankles for taunting her.

The townhouse was dark and quiet, with only a few mood lights on. She closed the door behind her and reset the alarm.

"Miranda?" Andrea's clear voice floated down the stairs.

"Yes. On my way."

Andrea met her halfway in the stairs, dressed in a white silk robe. "Have you eaten anything? We saved so I could heat something for you really quick."

"I have. We ordered food for everybody as I was not about to let anyone out of the building until we solved the problems. Had not the ultimate incompetence winners been in charge of that last shoot, and their runner-ups in charge of the layout of another shoot, I'd been home to spend the evening with my girls."

"And me." Andrea kissed Miranda's cheek.

"That's what I said. My girls."

Andrea squeezed her hand. "Oh. I'm your girl too, huh?"

"Yes." Starting to relax, Miranda pushed the jacket off her aching shoulders. "Let me just grab a quick shower and then we can go to bed."

"I'm thinking this evening is finally shaping up. Not that the twins and I haven't had a good time. We did. Watched a very interesting movie."

Miranda walked into the bathroom, but left the door ajar. "Yes? Which one?"

"Imagine You & Me."

"I don't think I've seen that one. What was it about?"

"A sort of drama/comedy romance thing. Young girl gets married. Falls in love with the florist. Finally leaves hubby and commits to said florist."

"Sound romantic, if a bit trite." Miranda dropped her clothes in the hamper. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she shook her head at the dark circles under her eyes.

"Hardly trite," Andrea said from the bedroom. "Didn't I mention that the florist was a woman played by Lena Headey?"

Miranda stopped halfway into the shower stall. "Really? Did the twins choose this movie?"

"They did. Maybe they're trying to tell us something."

"Beware of florists?" Miranda snorted and turned on the water. Standing still under the cascading water, she closed her eyes. Being home, she started to relax and just inhale and exhale. The thought of Andrea waiting for her made it even better.

As it turned out, Andrea was ready with a bath towel when Miranda stepped out of the shower. Allowing Andrea to wrap it around her, she closed her eyes and let her forehead fall onto Andrea's shoulder.

"I can't tell you how good this feels," Miranda moaned. "I'm exhausted."

"Then come to bed. Let me hold you."

"I'm sorry, Andrea. I don't think I can manage—"

"Shh. Just let me hold you. Come along." Andrea pulled Miranda with her into the bedroom where she'd folded back the covers. "Just get in."

Miranda never slept in the nude, but she was too tired to object. She slid into bed and watched Andrea drop the robe onto a chair. Also naked, Andrea joined Miranda in the center of the bed.

"There. Doesn't that feel nice?" Andrea snuggled close, and Miranda, who in the past loathed be crowding in bed, or anywhere, finally relaxing fully. The sense of being home, with the people she cared about the most, mellowed her mind and soothed her soul.

"I concur. It does." Miranda wrapped an arm around Andrea's chest. Burying her face against Andrea's neck, she inhaled the familiar scent of her own bath products, but also of something that was uniquely Andrea. "I'm not sure what it is about you that grounds me like this, but I can't remember ever feeling content like this."

"Like…ever?" Andrea's voice held a catch.

"Yes. That's what I said. Ever."

"Wow. I'm…I just…that's…" Andrea suddenly hugged her very tight.

"Goodness. Andrea, what's the matter?" Miranda's eyes shot open.

"Uhm. Just a bit unexpected. What you said." Andrea drew a trembling breath.

"Wait a minute," Miranda said, pushing herself up on her elbow. "Did I upset you?" Worried, she squinted in the faint light, trying to make out Andrea's expression.

"No. God no. I wasn't expecting you to say—something like that. Hearing that from you is pretty big." Andrea wiped quickly at her eyes. "You never exaggerate. Hell, you're the queen of understatement, at least when it comes to praise, or good things. So…when you say 'ever', you can't blame me for getting a bit emotional."

"I will remember to say this more often," Miranda murmured and pushed Andrea's hair back from her face with gentle hands. She had to keep in mind that Andrea was still recuperating from the schoolyard incident. Andrea was so resilient outward; her smile always so luminescent and her positive nature so strong, it was easy to overlook what went on behind those large brown eyes. It hurt Miranda to think how easy Andrea made it for others to forget about her pain. She hugged Andrea closer, smiling inwardly when her bedmate gave an 'oomph' sound.

"Mm, am I to be your teddy-bear for tonight?" Andrea chuckled.

"Yes. Don't move. I need to feel you close to me." Miranda wondered if Andrea realized how rare it was for her to express something like that to anybody. It was quite the eye-opener to herself as well. "As for teddy-bear, Andrea, just so you know. You're my first."

"So no teddy for little tiny Miranda?" Andrea yawned. "Then I'm happy to oblige."

"Silly girl. Time to sleep." Miranda hid a yawn of her own. She held Andrea close against her and slowly drifted off to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

"N-no."

Andy opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the faint light from the night lamp. Uncertain what had woken her; she suddenly felt the body next to her jerk.

"Oh. No, no." Miranda whimpered and pushed at Andy.

"Miranda?" She was wide awake so quickly, her head hurt. Andy tried to shift away from Miranda to free her arms.

"No. Don't. Don't." Miranda shoved at Andy, trying to free herself, but she was half lying on Andy's hair, which tore at her still-sore scalp.

"Miranda, you're dreaming. Wake up." Andy managed to free one arm and cupped Miranda's cheek. To her dismay it was wet from tears and she could feel Miranda begin to tremble so hard it made the bed shake. "Oh, sweetheart," Andy said and rubbed Miranda's arm. "Please wake up. You're scaring me."

"I need to…find her." Miranda arched as if trying to rid herself of something, or someone. "Let me go. Let me go!"

"I can't. You're dreaming." Andy was sobbing now. "Please, Miranda. Wake up!"

"God!" Miranda suddenly sat up so fast; Andy nearly fell off the bed. "I'm awake. I'm awake." Miranda breathed fast and deep, as if she'd been running for miles. "I'm all right."

"I don't think so," Andy murmured and cautiously shifted closer. "That was some nightmare."

"Not. Not since I was a child." Miranda moved back, away from Andy. "D-don't."

"Miranda?" Andy's hear contracted painfully. Something was not quite right. Miranda's eyes were glazed over. Was she really awake? "Miranda. Look at me."

"What?"

"Who am I?"

"What? You're…you're…" She licked her lips, still warding Andy off with her hand raised, palm forward. Then the air left her lungs in a long gush. "Andrea." Her tone had shifted. "Andrea?"

"Yes. May I hold you? Please, Miranda."

"Andrea," Miranda said, her voice trembling. "Oh, God. Yes. Please. Yes." She pushed away from the headboard and fell into Andy's arms.

Appalled at how cold Miranda felt, how she shivered and clung to her, Andy pulled the covers up and around them, creating a cocoon. She didn't speak, merely held Miranda while humming quietly. Miranda pressed her wet face into Andy's neck and curled up against her.

"Better?" Andy finally asked when the tremors had all but ceased.

"Yes. Thank you."

So polite. Sounding nearly drugged.

"You want some water?"

"No!" Miranda flinched. "I mean. No, please. Just don't let go yet."

"All right, all right. I'm not letting go until you tell me to. I promise."

"Thank you."

It was eerie to hear Miranda keep thanking her like this. Going from never being thanked by this woman, to being thanked for being there when Miranda needed her the most…was just wrong somehow. "You're very welcome," Andy said. "I have you."

"Yes." Miranda shuddered. "Yes."

They sat together until Miranda began to slump against Andy rather than cling to her in panic. Slowly, Andy managed to ease them down onto the pillows again, mindful to not let go of Miranda. She would never have guessed that Miranda could have a nightmare, and certainly not such a horrible one. Then again, if anyone had told her a few days ago that she'd be the center of a schoolyard stabbing and Miranda's lover; she wouldn't have believed that either.

Making sure the covers were tucked up around Miranda, she kissed her forehead, then her temple, and finally a very soft breath of a kiss against her lips. She knew that Miranda would probably hate to talk about what had just happened, but no matter what, when the morning light helped chase away the shadows of the night, she was going to ask Miranda about it anyway. The old rules about not asking Miranda anything simply didn't apply anymore, no matter what anyone else said. No matter what Miranda thought.

No matter what.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued in part 17.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 17

##########

Miranda was incredibly good at being inconspicuous when she put her mind to it. Andy woke up alone in bed, before the alarm clock engaged the BOSE system and played its usual classical piece. Peering into the bathroom, she saw Miranda put down the can of hairspray and then sweep past her with a murmured 'good morning', only to disappear into the hallway. When Andy came downstairs after getting ready to face the day, Miranda was placing her coffee mug on the counter and heading toward the foyer.

"Hold on, hold on." Andy knew this was her only chance before Miranda disappeared out the door. If she let Miranda go without addressing the issue of the horrendous nightmare, her lover would cocoon the matter throughout the day until it was buried so deep it would require emotional surgery to get to. Noticing that Miranda was almost an hour early going into the office Andy knew they had time. "Just wait a minute."

"What is it, Andrea?" Miranda aloof attitude would have intimidated her if Andy hadn't known Miranda's expressions so well. The tension around her eyes, the slight frown that wasn't annoyance at all, she realized, but apprehension, perhaps even fear, gave her away.

"I haven't had my morning hug, or my kiss for that matter," Andy said, keeping it light, non-threatening. "I've decided to go into work myself today, so I really need a hug, you know."

This erased the fearsome look and replaced it with concern. "Today? I know it's your decision, darling, but—"

"It is. And I know I don't have the right to pry into your nightmare, but just as you worry about me, I worry about you. Surely you can understand that?" Andy held her breath and looked into Miranda's eyes. "I really hurt for your last night. You were so scared, so out of it. Not like you at all."

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable—" Miranda's back became rigid.

"Stop it." Andy spoke softly and stepped into Miranda's personal zone, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. I care about you. Your pain is my pain. Don't you see?"

"I haven't…" Miranda swallowed and pressed her forehead into Andy's neck. "It's been many years since I had that happen. Last time was when my father died. I can't be sure, but I think it's probably safe to say that nearly losing you have unhinged me a bit."

"Oh, Miranda. I hate to think you had such a horrible nightmare because of me." Andy slid one of her hands to cup Miranda's neck. "I ached when you were so afraid. It was as if you were awake, but not quite."

"What?" Miranda looked up, her eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

"Well, your eyes were glazed over, and you answered me, but your voice was…without infliction. You sounded not quite _there_."

"That's not good." Miranda tugged Andy with her and climbed one of the kitchen nook stools. "Another thing that hasn't happened since my father died, which was before the twins were born, is the sleepwalking." She grimaced. "I'll have to lock the bedroom door and hide the key. That was the only thing that worked last time."

"Hey," Andy kissed Miranda's cheek. "I'll be there. I'll make sure you're all right."

"Hm. Back then, that's what my husband said. Eventually he was so unnerved by the whole thing; he slept in the guestroom for several weeks." Miranda pursed her lips.

"I'm not your husband." Andy smiled joylessly. "Any of them. Especially not the one that was a jerk." She stepped in between Miranda's legs, grateful that Miranda wore slacks. "I would rather handcuff myself to you, than to let any harm come to you. Do you understand, Miranda? I'm not unnerved, repelled, or intimidated by you sleepwalking or having nightmares. I'm worried. Yes. I ache for you and want to take it on me instead. I also feel a bit guilty."

"Guilty? Don't be ridiculous." The words were abrupt, but Miranda's voice was soft, sorrowful. "You." She cleared her voice. "You have nothing to be guilty about. I don't deserve someone like you, and now I'll just prove once again what a selfish old woman I am." She wrapped her arms around Andrea's waist and pulled her close. "Don't go back home to your apartment. I know it's a while yet until you planned to do so, but part of my dream, the part I remember the most, was that something really bad happened to you because you insisted on living there alone. I just want you here. With me. With us."

A warm sensation erupted in Andy's belly and hastily spread up to her chest. "If you only know how I dread going back there," she confessed. "Just the thought of not waking up next to you, not seeing you and the girls every day, and hearing about your day, hurts. This is going to sound really selfish, but you're so intoxicating, and I can't get enough of you, so when I think of not being able to hold you…not being allowed to make love to you, or even hug you, it…it's unthinkable." Andy hated that her lips trembled. She didn't want to come off as weepy and clingy, but she needed to be honest. Miranda deserved it, and she needed her to know. If this was too much for Miranda to handle, too many feelings too soon, it was better she found out now. Andy knew that she would never quite recover if Miranda pulled away from her, but if more time passed, it might even destroy her.

Only when Miranda cupped her cheeks and kissed her tenderly, did Andy realize that she was holding her breath.

"Silly girl. Don't give me that 'deer-caught-in-headlight' look. Yesterday, when you talked to me over the phone and told me you were going back to work, I envisioned you saying you were going back to your apartment. I felt nauseous." Miranda pulled her upper lip back in a self-deprecating snarl. "I was about to hang up and head for the restroom when you began talking about chocolate and brushes." She blushed faintly. "I ended up having to use the restroom, but for a different reason."

"What?" Andy's body grew hot and heavy. "You—you…?"

"No. I didn't take matters in my own hands. Harness such thoughts immediately." Miranda's eyes sparkled. "I did have to…clean up. You're voice can be very suggestive."

"_My _voice?" Andy squeaked. "What do you think you're doing right now?"

"Hm? Yes, Andrea, what am I doing?" Miranda murmured, nuzzling her neck. "Do share."

"You're doing a really great job of driving me crazy." Andy moaned and tilted her head sideways to offer her neck further. "You smell so good, and you sound even better, and I thought we were having a serious conversation."

"We are. This is very serious." Miranda nipped with her teeth, little sharp bites along her jugular vein. "Mm. Taste good." Her purring voice forced Andy's eyes to close.

"The—the girls will be up soon."

"I'm not going to have my way with you right here on the counter, even if that thought is quite lovely," Miranda said, chuckling. "I do however want you to think of this today, and know that I fully intend to be compensated for the missing chocolate adventure tonight."

"C-compensated. Uhm. Yes. Sure. Yes." Andy's mind was going blank and she knew if she didn't pull back now, she'd orgasm before Miranda even touched her intimately. The thought of the girls walking in on such a display was enough to cool her off somewhat. "Okay, gorgeous. Enough. For now." Out of breath, Andy pulled back and stood just out of reach. "You need new lipstick."

"Assist me?" Miranda nodded toward her purse.

Andy pulled out the small makeup bag she used to fill with mini versions of Miranda's makeup when she was her assistant, an initiative that had actually made Miranda praise her in public, and read on the lipstick tubes. "Lancôme Blush Classique?"

"Good eyes." Miranda smiled.

"All right. Sit still. I'm not Serena, you know."

"Pretend you're helping Cassidy with the pastel crayons again."

"Oh, God." Andy cupped Miranda's cheek with her left hand to keep her still and ran the creamy lipstick along her lower lip. It went on smoothly. "Okay, press your lips together just very lightly. This is how Serena taught me." Miranda complied. Andy ran the lipstick along Miranda's upper lips, following the delicate Cupid's bow. "There. Pretty good if I may say so."

"Thank you."

"Now, you have twenty minutes before you need to leave for real. Why don't we invite Roy in for a coffee while I have some cereal? That way I can ride into work with you."

Miranda sighed and pushed Andy's hair behind her ear and straightened her bags. "Very well. At least I don't have to worry about you being mauled or stampeded while you're on the subway."

"Oh, good." Andy hurried into the foyer and opened the front door. She waved at Roy to come in, completely ignoring the paparazzi and reporters already in place. Roy stepped out of the car and practically ran up the stairs.

"Something wrong, Andy?"

"Not a thing." Andy grinned. "Just thought you could come in for some coffee before we're off to face the day."

"Coffee?" Roy glanced around. "Really?"

"Oh, calm down," Miranda said from the kitchen. "I can promise you the wicked witch didn't poison it, Roy. Come sit down."

Roy looked stunned as he sat down after Miranda patted the seat next to her. "Thank you." Clearing his voice, he accepted the mug Andy handed to him.

"Some more java, Miranda?" Andy asked.

"Yes, please." Miranda took a deep, appreciative sip of the latte. Turning to the shell shocked man next to her, she smiled broadly. "So, Roy, how are you doing these days?"

Leaning against the counter, holding onto her bowl of cereal, Andy had to laugh at Roy's startled expression. Miranda raised her eyebrow at Andy's giggles, but the smile on her lips was enough to make Andy's heart sing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Andy enjoyed being back at the Mirror, even if her boss assigned her to work at updating the website. She realized she couldn't run around town chasing quotes and stories, but her adventurous side still hungered for those types of assignments.

"So, how's our little celebrity?"

Andy jerked at the sound of Marissa Geller's fake-sweet voice. Marissa wrote several columns at the Mirror, and she was popular with the readers. She had the social reporting on her plate, generally known as Geller's Gossip among the colleagues, which the diminutive blond resented viciously.

"Hello, Marissa. I'm fine."

"I need a quote. The boss said you could talk about anything but the actual events at the school yard."

"What do you need to know?" Andy dreaded what Marissa had conjured up. Marissa had a relentless, ruthless streak in her, and Andy had cringed at some of her wording many times.

"Firstly, what Miranda Priestly is really like, and secondly, what it's like to have the Dragon Lady fawn all over you."

"All right. I assume you want me to tell you what Miranda Priestly is like in private, as her public persona is pretty well documented?"

"Yes. Of course." Marissa's eyes glimmered and she pulled out her iPad. "Go on."

"Miranda Priestly is a brave woman. A single mother who is very close to her children. She has a large dog that she loves as well. Her personal staff is devoted to her and she treats them very well."

Marissa stopped taking notes halfway through. "What? That—that sounds nothing like her."

"How would you know? Have you been at her house? Have you ever talked to her in any capacity?" Andy smiled angelically. "I've worked for her and I've been a guest in her house—"

"Been? You're not staying there anymore? The Snow Queen toss you out already? What did you do to tick her off? Wear the wrong clothes to dinner?" Marissa snorted. "Must've been disappointing to not rub shoulders with the rich and famous more than a few days."

"Marissa. You've got to be kidding me." Andy was furious now. "You ask me something and when I answer truthfully, you get this fucking attitude and start insulting both Miranda Priestly and me with idiotic questions. It's none of your business where I'm staying. I take back anything I said. If you try to so much as quote a syllable from me, I swear I'll make sure you don't get anymore quotes from anyone Miranda knows ever again. And I'm not kidding?"

"So you have that kind of pull with her, huh?" Marissa's face was dark red now. "That says a lot. I assume this is wishful thinking on your part, since Miranda Priestly is not the type who does anything without ulterior motives. She wasn't above using the school yard incident and your involvement in it, to her own advantage. Runway got a lot of press when people learned you were her former employee and that you were staying in her home. I don't think you have the power to have Miranda execute any blacklisting, so I'll write what I please. If any of it is questioned, I'll make sure everyone knows who the source was."

"Marissa. Don't be a fool. You don't know who you're up against." Andy didn't, couldn't, share just how protective Miranda was of her.

Marissa smiled and leaned closer, her palms on Andy's desk. "You're Manhattan's local hero, and too many people are singing your praise. Isn't this what we learn from day one, that all journalism should be balanced? Someone needs to provide the opposite image of you. Conceited, goody-two-shoes, and reporter-wannabe." Marissa turned and left the bullpen. Andy stared after her, wondering what just happened. Going over in her mind what she'd actually said to Marissa, what the insidious woman could use against her, and couldn't think of anything. This didn't reassure her at all. She just knew that trouble was coming and heaven only knew how Miranda would take it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To be continued in part 18.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: See part 1.

**A/N - Heads up, people. Some violence implied and briefly described. Just in case it triggers something, OK?**

##########

After Paris

By Gun Brooke

##########

Part 18

##########

Miranda nodded to Roy and bid him a good night as she stepped out of the town car.

"Ms. Priestly?" he said, and surprised her by getting out of the car, rounding it to reach her. "It probably isn't my place, but…when I drove Andy home, she, uhm, she wasn't herself. Something's bothering her." Roy's cheeks colored. "I don't mean to interfere, but Andy's a nice girl. We all love her."

Miranda barely stopped herself from agreeing out loud. "Thank you, Roy. I will keep my ear to the ground."

Looking relieved, Roy nodded and returned to the car. Miranda climbed the steps, lost in thought, to the front door and flinched as the handle was practically yanked out of her hand as the twins opened the door.

"You're home! And early." Their smiles sent happy tingles through Miranda's chest.

"Hello, bobbseys. You look—are you wearing makeup?" She narrowed her eyes.

"We've been playing beauty salon with Andy." Cassidy was suddenly serious. "She looked like she could use a distraction, Mom."

Miranda's stomach clenched. When her girls, independent of Roy, noticed something to be off—something was off.

"Then I'm sure you two gave her enough distraction to last all week." Miranda hung her coat, when she heard Andrea come down the stairs. She turned to greet her and stopped mid-step. Certain she looked quite the fool, all she could do was stare at the vision before her. "Andrea?"

"I know. I look…" Andrea cast a glance at the girls. "Different."

"Actually, you look stunning. Yes, different, but quite spectacular. Did you girls do this?"

"Yes, I did the hair and Caroline the makeup. We looked in the last issue of Runway."

So that's why it looked familiar. The girls had taken a picture of a very sultry Eva Longoria and translated that onto a fresh-faced Andrea. The result was amazing. And sexy. The fact that Andrea looked slightly uncomfortable and fidgeted made the contrast between the Veronica Lake inspired hairdo, and the fifties inspired makeup even more noticeable.

"I'll go wash off and we can have dinner," Andrea said and turned to go back upstairs.

"Absolutely not. The girls worked hard and did a marvelous job. Now, as lovely as you two look," she continued and looked at her daughters, "I suggest that you wash off before dinner. Use the makeup wipes in my bathroom. Not soap."

"Oh, Mom, we haven't washed our faces with soap since we were five." Caroline did a dramatic grimace at her. "And Andy worked hard on us too."

"Yes, I know, it'll be age appropriate in about four-five years. Now, scoot."

"All right, all right."

The girls didn't really seem angry or upset, she noticed. It was as if they were putting on the 'aw mom' act for Andrea's sake. She turned to her lover and carefully kissed her deep red lips.

"How was your day at the Mirror?" Miranda asked lightly.

"Oh. You know. Didn't take me long to get back into stuff. Things."

Ah. Something at work, Miranda guessed. She wrapped an arm around Andrea and walked toward the kitchen. "I think I'm going to have to let the girl style you for the Black and White Ball next time. You do look fantastic. Then again, I might not want to share this Andrea with anyone else."

"Really?" Andrea looked surprised. "You didn't just say that for the benefit of the girls?"

"I never sugarcoat anything, you know that. Not even with my girls, even if I don't tear into them like I do with my adult staff-members."

"Wow." Andrea cast a glance in the mirror. "I thought it looked good for, you know, clubbing, or something. I wasn't sure you'd go for something like this. Or that you'd think it fit me."

"Granted, I prefer you without anything on. Whatsoever. That said, this look suits you too."

Andrea smiled, and even if it didn't quiet reach her eyes, it was an improvement from the nervous fidgeting.

The dinner was a quick affair as the girls confessed they had a double set of homework for missing a day of school earlier.

"Andrea and I will retire to the bedroom. She needs rest," Miranda said with a cautioning glare at Andrea, "and I need to work some before the Book arrives. I'll be in to say goodnight to you later."

"Okay." Caroline glanced over at Andrea. "Andy too?"

"If she's awake," Miranda said.

The girls walked upstairs, both of them turning around twice as if to make sure their mother knew they knew she knew.

"You ready to go up, darling?" Miranda rose and extended her hand.

"No. We need to talk." Andrea swallowed like she had problems keeping the salmon she'd just eaten, down.

"Any reason we can't talk upstairs?" Miranda didn't remove her hand. "Please."

"Very well." Andrea took Miranda's hand and after clearing the rest of the table and grabbing Miranda's briefcase, they walked upstairs.

"What's wrong?" Miranda sat down on the foot of the bed and patted next to her.

"You're going to be very mad…displeased. Angry." Andre's hands began fidgeting again. She tugged at her fingers and kept looking down, refusing to meet Miranda's gaze.

"What happened?" Miranda told herself to be patient.

"I have a colleague, of sort. A woman. She's a columnist." Andrea drew a deep trembling breath. "She began asking me questions, you know, for her gossip column. She asked about you, naturally, and I answered. I told her how much I admired you as a mother, as a friend, hell, even as a fucking dog-owner."

Miranda snorted. "Dog-owner? Something tells me that's not what this woman was after." Biting into the tip of her tongue, she forced herself to not sound even more sarcastic. "What did she say?"

"That I'd given her enough for a juicy spread in her column. She already had a preconceived idea what you were like—"

"As do the entire publishing world of Manhattan. I don't care."

"I'm afraid what she might write. I'm afraid that she'll write about the girls. Or find out about…us. I'm selfish, Miranda," Andrea said and large tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm afraid she'll mess this up. I c-can't lose you." The last part was barely audible, but it pierced Miranda's heart and made it almost impossible for her to breathe.

"She can't and she won't. You have to tell me her name."

"Miranda…"

"No, Andrea. I need to know her name. Now." Not about to give Andrea any choice, since this was the only way to take the burden of this off her shoulders, Miranda narrowed her eyes and let the Dragon Lady out to roam freely.

Andrea gasped and pressed a hand to her midsection. "Damn. How do you do that?"

"Her name."

"Marissa Geller."

"Thank you." Miranda rose and walked over to the phone. Dialing, she soon heard Emily's voice at the other end.

"Text me the phone numbers for the editor-in-chief for the mirror. Yes. All his numbers. That's all." Her cell phone beeped in her briefcase only half a minute later. Miranda dialed the work phone first, then went through two more numbers until the man answered.

"Good evening, Gareth, Miranda Priestly here. We have a mutual problem."

"What…who, wh-…Miranda? What problem?"

She had to smile at the man's consternation. "One of your employees has demonstrated a staggering lack of judgment, not to mention decorum. Today was my very good friend Andrea Sach's first day back at work. I'm sure you realize how hard that must have been for her."

"Oh, absolutely. That young girl is an asset, not to mention a damn hero," Gareth Lorne said. "I knew she worked for you, but I wasn't aware that you'd stayed in touch."

"We have, and I feel very—_very_—protective of her. She's been through hell and back, and for her to be subjected to this backstabbing from one of her peers is quite frankly shocking. Though, having read a few of Ms. Geller's columns, it's taking it a bit too far calling her Andrea's peer. Anyway, I can't imagine that you had any idea of Ms. Geller's plans."

"Plans? No, I certainly have not. Marissa is a skilled columnist, and popular with her readers, but if she's confronted Ms. Sachs in any way that is inappropriate—"

"Gareth, you're not listening," Miranda said, lowering her voice. "Ms. Geller has acted in a malicious way, and against any journalistic code of honor, and I want her gone."

Andrea gasped, a sound that was echoed on the other end.

"Miranda, I just can't fire Marissa without proof."

"Very well. Let her run her columns tomorrow and pray she hasn't written anything that can be perceived as harmful to Andrea, or to any other member of my family. That way, not only will she be fired, but she will be blacklisted as well."

"I would like to be able to accommodate you on any matter, Miranda, I really do," Gareth babbled, "but there are union rules and—"

"That's all." Miranda snapped the phone close. "I guess we'll have to wait until tomorrow and read what this woman finds it in her treacherous little heart to share with the public." Miranda sat down next to Andrea again. "In the meantime, I want to reassure you. Slipping her hand in under Andrea's hair, she caressed the soft, smooth skin above her collar. "No matter what this woman writes, I would never hold you responsible. Nothing will be destroyed between us. I trust in the fact that you are as protective of me as I am of you and the girls." She saw some of the tension leave Andrea's eyes. "Just like you were there for me last night and this morning, it's my turn to be there for you now. I've told you before I don't care what they write about me. This is the truth. I really don't. Now, if they bring you, or the girls, into the mess, heaven help them." She kissed Andrea's cheek, tasting the faint saltiness from the previous tears. "I have a request now."

"Yes?" Andrea leaned against Miranda.

"Why don't you rest while I work some? No matter what you think of your own stamina, and how well the girls styled you, makeup and all, I can see the dark circles beneath your eyes. Go on, take off the makeup, get into something comfortable, and I promise to wake you when it's time to tuck the girls in, if you fall asleep."

"But—"

"Please, darling. Humor me."

This, strangely enough, made Andrea chuckle. "Now that's funny."

"I don't see why." Miranda sniffed, but was so happy to see the broad smile reach Andrea's eyes for the first time this evening.

"All right. A nap might be a good thing." Andrea suddenly flung her arms around Miranda, hugging her tight. "I was afraid," she whispered, her breath hot against Miranda's neck. "I thought I was stronger than this."

"Listen to me, darling. You're not back to normal quite yet. You've done a remarkable recovery after all the horrible that happened, all the trauma. You're just not quite your feisty self. You will be."

"You promise?"

Miranda's heart nearly shattered at the longing in Andrea's voice and the tremors reverberating over to her own body.

"I promise."

###########

Andy padded back to the bedroom, after watching Miranda slip downstairs to let Patricia out one last time. She slipped into bed, having gone through her evening routine already and so had Miranda, having finished the Book in record time. She could hear Miranda walking back and forth a few times downstairs and the sound of her steps made her feel so safe and cared for. Soon, she heard the steps change directions and approach via the stairs.

"You might as well take off your pajamas, Andrea," Miranda said, placing something on the dresser. "I decided I actually enjoy sleeping in the nude when you're near. Another first for me."

"Uhm, okay?" Surprised, Andy stood and removed her sleepwear. Miranda had made a detour to the bathroom and now returned with a large towel.

Andy watched in mystified fascination how Miranda pulled the covers back and placed the bath towel in the center of the bed. "What are you doing? Or we?" Suddenly a scent reached her. "Chocolate?" Her pulse picked up speed.

"It was your idea. I have developed a sudden sweet tooth, apparently. I already know how much enjoy you." Miranda let her robe fall to the floor as she sauntered over to the foil covered bowl sitting on the dresser. "Lie down, darling. On your back, please." She gave a feral smile.

Andy felt a rush of moisture between her legs as she climbed up on the bed. "How do you want me? Like this?" She lay down flat on her back.

Miranda tapped her lips with her index finger, looking thoughtful. "Yes, but spread your legs and make room for me. Push some pillows behind you, under the towel. I want easy access."

"Oh, God." Andy did as Miranda wanted. Soon she half sat against the pillows, her legs accommodating Miranda holding the brush and a flat brush.

"The way I see this, I think you need to tell me where I should paint you. Choose carefully because those are the only places my mouth will go."

Andy trembled now. "Okay. Here." She pointed at her lips.

"Don't lick it off." Miranda didn't use the brush. She dipped a finger and traced the outline of Andy's lips. "Next?"

Andy pointed at both sides of her neck. Miranda took the brush and ran the warm chocolate along her neck. Andy didn't need any further prompting and soon she boasted chocolate covered nipples, the creases of her elbows, her belly button, the inside of her thighs.

"Are you sure that's it?" Miranda whispered huskily, the brush shaking some between her fingers.

"Why don't you choose a place?" Andy said, her voice throaty with need.

"You do have some very good ideas." Miranda dipped her fingers into the bowl and rand them along Andy's labia, coating her. "This is a remarkable product. It will not run, and it won't go hard." Miranda set the bowl down on the nightstand. "Now let's see if it tastes as good as it smells. I'm pretty sure it can't be more delicious than you." Leaning down, Miranda began her journey along Andy's body, licking, raking with the teeth, sucking noisily, and generally driving her insane. When the only chocolate remaining was the one on her nipples and between her legs, Andy was beside herself.

"Miranda, I need to—I have to come."

"You do?" Miranda licked her lips. "I'm going to clean your nipples and you can't come. Not yet. Do you understand, Andrea?"

"Mm. Yes? Yes." Arching against Miranda's mouth, Andy closed her eyes as the greedy mouth of her lover closed around one nipple and caressed it with a viciously flicking tongue. She moved over to the other breast and licked it, slowly, over and over.

Andy was whimpering now. She was burning up and she knew the chocolate mixed with her body's own moisture had made her a hot mess between her legs. She wanted Miranda's fingers, her mouth, anything, touching her. Now. "Miranda, it hurts. I want you so much—it hurts."

"Yes, it does. It does hurt. It hurts to want someone this much." Miranda moaned against her stomach as she moved down. "Oh, you're so wet. So sticky and…messy."

"I…uhm…sorry?" Andy couldn't think when she felt Miranda's breath against her swollen sex.

"No need. I take this as a true compliment." Miranda cleaned her labia thoroughly, one at a time. Then she parted them still licking with long, thorough strokes.

"Please, Miranda. Please, please, please."

"Please what?"

Wasn't it obvious? Andy couldn't remember ever wanting someone this much. "Please, fuck me."

Gasping, Miranda glanced up at Andy. She locked their eyes together, made it impossible for Andy to look away and then she pushed two fingers inside. Andy wanted to close her eyes and moan, but she knew she had to be quiet, and that she shouldn't look away.

"There." Miranda was breathing hard and fast now as well. "So wet, so tight." She lowered her head and began licking the hood of Andy's clit. "And so mine." She sucked it in between her lips and tongued it gently. Moving her fingers in and out at the same rhythm, Miranda hummed. "Come, Andrea." She sucked fully at the hard ridge of nerves, and Andy slapped both her hands over her mouth as she scream forced itself over her lips. Her body jerked, she broke out in a full-body sweat, and she shook so hard, she was afraid Miranda might lose her grip.

"Oh, thank God, you scared me," was the next Andy heard Miranda say. She was suddenly wrapped up in Miranda's arms.

"What…?"

"I think you passed out for a moment. I was unsure if I should be content or worried there for a moment." Miranda smiled against Andy's lips. "Seems I am to be congratulated."

"You humble woman, you." Andy hid her face against Miranda's damp neck. She could feel fine tremors coming from Miranda. Realizing that her lover was yet not satisfied, Andy mustered all her strength and pushed a hand between them, cupping her.

"Andrea!" Clearly taken by surprise, Miranda arched into Andy's hand.

"This made you pretty horny, didn't it?" Andy smiled lazily. "Pick a number between one and five."

"What? Why?"

"Humor me."

"Three."

"Good choice. Five takes training I believe." Andy pushed three fingers into Miranda and pressed the pad of her thumb against her clit. So wet and slippery, it was hard to maintain a good grip, Andy kept circling, pushing in and out, decisive and eager to make Miranda come, craving it.

"Yes. Oh, yes. Andrea, I need…I…Four."

"Four? Oh, four." Adding her pinkie to the other three fingers, Andy realized it had to burn. Still Miranda's hips danced against her hand, undulating in long, hard movements. Andy guessed that it wouldn't take much now to push Miranda one step closer to the abyss. Perhaps all the way over if she did it right. She bent up against Miranda and took her left nipple between her teeth. Digging them in, just enough to sting, but never to injure, she heard Miranda draw her breath.

Thinking quickly, Andy moved her lips to meet Miranda's, catching her scream with her mouth, when Miranda's orgasm tore through her. Bucking wildly at Andy's hand, Miranda whimpered as if she was in agony. Finally she relaxed and barely seemed to have enough energy to cling to Andy.

"We should…shower…" she murmured in Andy's ear.

"Nah. Not yet," Andy murmured contentedly. "Later."

"Sure. Later." Miranda melted into Andy's side and went to sleep. Andy had feared she'd be completely sleepless this night, but as soon as she heard Miranda's even breathing, she was asleep too.

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**To be continued in part 19/?**

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